


Lean On Me

by restless (cabinfever)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/restless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a mistake, a miracle, and a blessing. Zayn just didn't expect anything to pan out the way it had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lean On Me

There might’ve been a time when Zayn contemplated his feelings for each and every one of the band members. It was probably early on in the X Factor days, back when there was the chance that they wouldn’t make it at all and Zayn could just make up his mind because they probably weren’t going to last as friends for long if they didn’t win.

Niall was firmly and immediately placed in the zone halfway between friend and brother, the kid that, sure, was nice to look at, but Zayn could never have seen himself with the young Irishman. He was loud, bubbly, and lovable, but never attractive to Zayn.

Harry, despite his obvious slow-voiced charisma, megawatt smile, and hypnotizing green eyes, was like a cheeky best mate. Sure, Zayn had considered his chances with the curly-haired boy once or twice, but never seriously.

And Louis. Louis was a challenge. He was like Zayn’s other half, his partner in crime. And yes, they had ended up in a rather compromising position that one time when they were on the X Factor tour. But beyond that, there was nothing but a sort of curiosity about each other, no deep emotional attraction to hold them together.

But then there was Liam. Liam was another story entirely.

Liam was Zayn’s everything. Liam was beautiful. Liam was flawless. Liam was the one meant for Zayn, the one that completed him, that was his best friend and soul mate and just everything that Zayn wasn’t.

Liam…Liam _was_ Zayn’s story.

* * *

“And, Liam, another fan wants to know why you’ve been randomly leaving the stage during concerts, and she said that she’d been noticing how sick you’ve been looking. She wants to know if you’re okay.” The blond interviewer looked up, and Liam felt his stomach drop. This really wasn’t what he needed right now. He already felt nauseous and his head was throbbing.

He snuck a peek at the rest of the lads and saw that they were all looking incredibly perplexed, having heard this observation for the first time. Including Zayn.

Zayn…

He snapped out of his reverie and locked his gaze on the interviewer’s heavily made up eyes. “Well, that’s true. I have been feeling a bit under the weather lately. But I’m sure it’s going to be cleared up soon with a good aspirin, eh?” He grinned and smiled at the camera, albeit reluctantly. “So no fear, guys! You’ll have the old Liam soon enough!”

The interviewer smiled as well and Liam felt Harry pat his arm in a comforting gesture, which he appreciated. “Well, folks, this has been Live! With Kelly. Here’s One Direction, signing off!”

The boys all smiled and waved at the camera. “Bye!” they chorused with all the ease of a well-rehearsed troop.

“And…we’re clear,” the cameraman called, and Liam immediately got up and rushed out of the studio. His face felt flushed and warm, and he was practically drowning in the sweat that was seeping through the fabric of his light cotton shirt. He made it to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it before dashing to the toilet and retching. He ended up losing his breakfast, and he felt his stomach still churning and groaned, clutching the rim of the toilet with all he had.

He heard a hammering on the bathroom door that drove a nail into his head with every loud pound that assaulted his eardrums. Liam rolled off his knees and curled up next to the toilet, sobbing because everything just hurt and he didn’t know why. He just let the throbbing in his head take over, the steady pulse of pain washing over while a voice suddenly replaced the pounding, and this voice was so sweet and concerned and blissfully quiet.

“Li? Can you open the door, love? Nobody else is here.”

Liam opened his eyes and managed to gasp out, “Can’t.” But he didn’t know whether the voice had heard and began to despair when suddenly with an almighty crash, the door was kicked in.

And, standing there with his face flushed and worried and so beautiful, was Zayn Malik. He rushed to Liam and Liam moaned in agony as he was slowly picked up into the cradle of Zayn’s wonderfully strong arms, bridal style. He knew that he was probably a dead weight, but Zayn just bore his weight. “Hurts,” Liam whimpered. “Head.”

“I know, Liam,” Zayn whispered, and he carried him over to the sink, wiped his face clean with a paper towel, and then put him down for a moment. Liam didn’t open his eyes but he could feel a cloth that smelled like Zayn being tied over his eyes so he knew that Zayn had just taken his shirt off. “This is so the light doesn’t aggravate your headache,” Zayn murmured, still quiet. He picked Liam up again, and Liam wasn’t ashamed of the way that he tucked his face into Zayn’s chest, taking comfort in the feel of his cool skin against the flushed, hot skin of his face.

And then Zayn was taking him into the hallway, and he was running which hurt Liam’s head but he didn’t care because if it’s Zayn then he didn’t mind. Zayn started yelling, “Call an ambulance!” as he entered the studio, and the remnants of the live audience gasped and took out their phones. Liam, in the still-sane small corner of his mind, inwardly smirked because he knew that most of them were taking pictures. But then he smiled when he heard Harry’s frantic voice.

“Hello? Is this 911? Yes? Okay, we need an ambulance down at the studio where they film Live! With Kelly…yeah? You know the show? Well that’s fucking great, but get an ambulance down here because it looks like my bandmate is about to DIE here!” There was a pause. And then he continued, outraged, “YES, IT’S A BLOODY EMERGENCY! AND YES, YOU WILL COME DOWN HERE AS SOON AS BLOODY POSSIBLE, YOU STUPID AMERICAN! JUST GET AN AMBULANCE NOW!”

Liam didn’t really remember much of the ensuing minutes, but he did remember Zayn sitting down on the couch that they were interviewed on, hugging Liam to his body and whispering random words that meant absolutely nothing but eased the pain in Liam’s head. “Don’t worry Li it’s going to be okay…just fine…are you comfortable?…just make sure that you’re fine…oh, there they are…Harry’s just furious right now.” But then he trailed off as Liam raised the hand that wasn’t crushed against Zayn and placed it against Zayn’s heart, feeling its frenzied pounding.

“Don’t stress, love,” Liam muttered. “Don’t stress.” He buried his face in Zayn’s smooth skin, breath stuttering because he was crying from the pain in his body. Zayn smelled good; like cinnamon and expensive cologne. Liam liked it. He didn’t want to leave; this just felt too safe, and he knew he’d be fine if Zayn was there.

But then he was being roughly taken out of Zayn’s arms and the shirt was removed from his eyes. He cried out because the pain was back, and he refused to answer the EMT’s questions until Zayn was next to him on the gurney, holding his hand. The rest of the boys hopped into the ambulance as well, and then they were off.

“Liam, do you have any medical conditions?” the paramedic asked calmly, attaching a blood pressure sleeve to his arm and pumping it.

“I have…one kidney,” he muttered.

“Have you been injured recently?”

“No…”

“Well, Liam, you just hang in there and the doctors will see what’s going on with you.”

“Kay,” he murmured, but then he felt weariness overtake him, and he whispered, “Zayn, ‘m sleepy,” before he drifted off.

* * *

The doctor walked toward them, a clipboard in his hands. Zayn stood up first, buzzing with anxiety. What had happened to Liam? Why was he so sick?

He’d checked Twitter and most of the major tabloid sites while he’d been waiting, and already there was an onslaught of pictures of him carrying Liam and of loading Liam’s gurney into the ambulance. There’d been a flood of frantic Tweets to the entire band, and all the media was buzzing.

But Zayn didn’t care about the press. He cared about Liam.

He anxiously wrung his hands. “Well?” he demanded. “How is he?”

“Will he be okay?” Louis asked quietly, his usually mirthful face grim and concerned.

The doctor consulted his clipboard. “Well, we’ve run an MRI, CT scan, and we’ve taken blood. Liam is conscious, and if you’d follow me, I’d like to have you all together before I tell you the results.”

At first, Zayn considered throttling the doctor until he told him what the hell was going on with Liam. But then he realized that doing so would probably get him kicked out of the hospital, so he settled for glaring at the doctor’s back while he, Niall, Harry, and Louis were escorted to Liam’s room.

The white-coated man stopped them at the door of a room in the corner of the wing. “Here you go, boys.”

Niall was the one that ended up pushing the door open tentatively, at first revealing only white walls and heart monitors. Then Zayn peeked inside and saw Liam, poor frail Liam, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling with forlorn brown eyes. “Liam?” Zayn asked worriedly, tiptoeing into the room.

Liam turned his head at the voice with a wide grin. “Zayn! Niall! Louis! Harry! You guys came to see me!”

“You say it as if you’re surprised,” Louis snorted. “We’re your friends, not stuck up international pop stars.”

“How you feeling, mate?” Harry asked. “You had us scared for a moment there.”

Liam shrugged. “I just remember hurting, and puking, and that everything hurt my head. And then Zayn kicked the door in and carried me out.” He smiled at Zayn, eyes glinting with thanks. Zayn’s heart felt like it was going to fly away; he felt so elated that Liam was okay, that Liam was healthy and smiling and being the polite Liam that they all knew so well.

“That’s good,” Zayn said quietly, taking a seat on one of the chairs scattered around the bed. “I guess it’s a good thing that I wasn’t too daft to not follow you, or else something bad could’ve happened.”

“What did happen, Liam?” Niall asked curiously, already sprawled out in a comfy armchair.

Liam shrugged. “Dunno. Doctor hasn’t told me anything. He said he’d wait until we were all gathered. I don’t see why it’s so important like that, but I guess that’s America for you.”

The doctor walked in at that second, raising an amused eyebrow at the sheepish faces that the boys had on. He looked at Liam like he was some kind of new creature. “Well, would you like to hear the results of your lab tests?” he asked.

Liam nodded, wincing slightly as he sat up in his bed, tugging at the IV that was inserted in his hand. “Yeah, I think that’s definitely the priority right now.”

The doctor consulted his clipboard. “Well, it seems like Liam may be suffering extreme migraines and nausea due to increased hormones.”

“Migraines?” Liam asked perplexedly.

The doctor nodded, pursing his lips. “Have you boys ever heard of the Brochten mutation?”

All of the boys shook their heads, including Zayn, but inside his heart was sinking. The Brochten mutation…he’d learned about it in biology class. And knowing that Liam had it meant only one thing. And that was something that Zayn had thought was wholly impossible but of course it would happen to Liam goddamn Payne. But he had to remain calm.

Liam looked confused. “What does that mean? The Brochten mutation?”

“It means that a small percentage of males have an extra organ that becomes active for a small period of time. During that period, it is possible that the male can become impregnated.”

Louis blinked. “I’m sorry, you must be joking. Did I seriously just hear you right?”

“You’re gay?!” Harry roared, looking incredibly betrayed.

“You’re pregnant?” Niall sputtered, his blue eyes dazed with the shock of it all.

But Zayn didn’t pay attention to the outbursts of his friends. He fixated his eyes on Liam’s face. The Wolverhampton boy, already looking so frail and weak hooked up to those machines, had gone white as a sheet. He stared blankly down at his stomach, full pink lips slightly parted in an ‘o’ shape of awe. As if feeling Zayn’s gaze, Liam’s eyes ticked to his bandmate’s. Zayn’s heart seemed to shatter at the sight of how broken Liam looked, so vulnerable under the weight of the news.

It was the doctor who next spoke up. “As of now, you are about three weeks along, and you do in fact carry a developing embryo in you. The headaches and nausea will probably last for at least two thirds of the pregnancy.” The man seemed not to notice how Liam flinched at the last word, barreling onwards instead. “I’ll need the phone number of your guardian so I can call him over.”

Numbly, Harry seemed to move as if he was moving underwater, fingers laboriously plucking the pen and paper from the doctor’s grasp and slowly forming the numbers of Paul’s cell phone. The doctor nodded to them, checked Liam’s heart monitor, and left the five boys on their own.

For a few tense minutes, all eyes were focused on Liam, who in turn stared fixedly on his hands which were clasped over his abdomen. The silence drew on.

Niall swallowed.

Harry sniffed.

Louis scratched his ear.

Zayn feared for his own heart; he knew the imminent question that loomed, that drew closer with each second that passed agonizingly slowly–

“Who’s the father?”

Harry was the one to break the silence, words cutting slow and low and smooth through the tension.

Liam looked up in surprise, like he’d forgotten that the other lads were there. He blinked questioningly at Zayn.

Zayn blinked back.

Liam looked right at Harry, his chocolate eyes strangely full of a newfound pride that burned from underneath long eyelashes.

“Zayn,” he said simply.

* * *

It had been their fifth time together.

Liam had been the one to instigate it that night, shoving the older boy against the wall of Zayn’s flat and peppering his neck with fevered, frenzied kisses, hot and wonderful against his skin.

Zayn remembered asking Liam as he picked the Wolverhampton boy up and carried him to the bed, “Why the rush, Li?”

“I don’t know,” Liam had replied breathlessly, eyes dark with lust as he was tossed to the bed. He’d grabbed Zayn by the shirt and dragged him down onto the mattress, straddling his hips as his face hovered just centimeters from Zayn’s. “I just need you.”

Zayn hadn’t protested in the slightest, and he’d gratefully run his hands up Liam’s sides, bringing the younger boy’s shirt with them.

* * *

Liam fidgeted nervously under the shelter of the scratchy hospital sheets. Niall, bless his poor Irish soul, looked absolutely betrayed by the fact that two of his bandmates had been sleeping with each other for God knew how long. Harry was frantically looking from Liam to Zayn in distress, mouth working soundlessly in his shock. Louis just bit his lip and looked away, for once at a loss for words.

Niall swallowed. “How long?” he asked, and Liam could see the tears just barely held back in his blue eyes.

Zayn was the one to speak, his eyes still glued to Liam’s face. “A few months,” he said quietly, his voice catching in his throat.

“A few months?!” Louis exploded, shooting out of his chair. “It’s been months that you’ve been shagging behind our backs, and when you do come clean, it’s when we’re in the hospital because Liam got knocked up!” He began to storm out, but Liam called him back.

“Lou! Please, can we not let this tear us apart? I know we were in the wrong when we kept our relationship a secret from you and the fans, but just think of the consequences! The press would have a field day, and we’d lose thousands of followers! Did you ever consider that?”

Louis turned on his heel and stormed up to the bed, shoving his face right up to Liam’s. “But now it’s even worse because you’re bloody PREGNANT!” he screeched. “Paul’s gonna kill you, Simon’s gonna kill you, management’s gonna kill you, and critics are gonna kill you! And I’m going to kill you, Payne!” Louis screamed.

“Louis, please!” Harry protested, but Louis continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“You know, Liam, I always thought you were the responsible one. But then you go and jeopardize our careers by getting pregnant and I could just kill you right now!”

Zayn reached out and touched Louis’ shoulder, pulling him slightly away from Liam. “Hey mate, don’t take this out on Liam. It’s not his fault.”

Louis whirled and punched Zayn full in the face. “That’s right, Zayn!” he snarled. “You were the careless teenager that did this, you fucking idiot!”

“Louis!” Liam yelled, wishing that he could jump up and hug Zayn as Harry and Niall leapt forward and pulled Louis away from a cowering Zayn.

“We’ll take him out to cool down,” Harry called as he and Niall dragged Louis out of the room. They closed the door behind themselves.

They were alone. Liam peered over the side of the bed, looking at Zayn who was kneeling on the floor. “Zayn!” he called frantically. “Are you okay?”

“Need ice,” Zayn groaned, his head pressed against his left eye. Liam wildly searched his bed, trying to locate the damn remote that he had somewhere. He finally found it by his left hip and punched the CALL NURSE button.

“Yes, Liam? What is it, sweetie?” the nurse’s voice buzzed into the room.

“Yes, um, hi. My frie– boyfriend just got punched. Can we get him some ice, please?”

“Sure thing, sugar. Be there in a jiff.”

Lo and behold, Missouri the nurse bustled in within about a minute, bringing with her a cart with First Aid supplies. Missouri had taken an instant liking to Liam when he was first admitted, and Liam couldn’t help but like the woman’s funny personality, motherly attitude, and frank Southern accent. She helped Zayn off the ground and gently prodded at the rapidly swelling bruise on his left eye. “Oh, dear, you really got socked well, didn’t you?” Missouri chuckled, clicking her tongue. “Well, let’s get you fixed up.” She reached behind herself and got an antiseptic wipe, gently swabbing the area.

Zayn flinched. “Ow,” he grumbled, and Liam felt totally useless, unable to get up and take Zayn’s hand to help ease the pain away.

“Sorry, sweetie. There’s a bit of cut skin there and the alcohol stings a bit,” Missouri informed Zayn. She disposed of the wipe and picked up an ice pack. She handed it to Zayn. “Now, you hold it against that shiner of yours and it’ll ease the pain. You’ll have a big old bruise for a few days, but there’s no permanent damage and you’ll be back to your movie-star good looks in a few days. Okay?” When Zayn nodded, she smiled and patted his cheek. “Good.” Then she turned to Liam. “How you feeling, sweetie?”

“Alright, thanks.” Liam smiled. He really did appreciate the nurse’s concern for him.

Missouri returned the grin. “Well, you make sure you stay strong for Baby now, okay?”

Liam’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the life now growing inside him. Subconsciously placing a hand on his stomach, he sighed and said, “Thanks, Missouri.”

“Anytime.” The nurse took her cart and left, closing the door behind herself with a cheeky wave.

Liam looked at Zayn, who was holding the ice against his eye with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What is it, Zee?” Liam asked worriedly, leaning out of the bed to take the older boy’s free hand.

Zayn blinked his right eye and stared right at Liam, some unknown emotion glimmering in his eye. “You called me your boyfriend. Publicly.”

“Well, it’s true.” Liam grinned weakly.

Zayn’s lips pulled up in a grin, showing those straight white teeth that drove Liam insane. “So I guess we’re official.”

Liam squeezed Zayn’s hand. “I guess so.”

Zayn scooched his chair closer to Liam’s bed, putting the ice pack on the table next to Liam’s bed. He looked disdainfully at the pack with a trademark pout of his.

“You should have that on your eye,” Liam immediately said, fearing for Zayn’s handsome brown eye.

“Doesn’t matter,” Zayn shrugged with another fleeting white smile. But then he grew serious and placed one of his hands atop Liam’s that rested on Liam’s stomach. He met Liam’s eyes solemnly. “You’re pregnant,” he whispered.

The full weight of the news hit Liam again. Liam blinked back a tear and smiled. “I’m pregnant,” he replied in an equally hushed tone.

Zayn broke his haze and stared down at Liam’s stomach with a type of curiosity and protectiveness that made Liam’s heart do somersaults. He watched as the Pakistani boy placed both of his hands flat on Liam’s stomach, the elegant tanned fingers splayed out while Zayn stared down at Liam in something akin to awe.

“Yours,” Liam whispered. “Ours.”

Zayn looked back at Liam, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Our child, Liam,” he whispered, his voice catching. “Our child,” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“C’mere,” Liam whispered back, and Zayn lifted his hands from his stomach, moving them to catch Liam’s cheeks as he caught Liam in a tender kiss. Liam began to cry, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t even know if they were because of joy or relief or terror. All he knew was that he was crying, and that Zayn was crying, but it was alright because Zayn’s lips were soft and comforting against his, slowly moving but still gentle, always gentle because this was Zayn.

And Zayn was safety. He was warmth and comfort and support. He was protection and love and utter perfection.

And he was the father of Liam’s child.

And all was well.

A throat cleared, the sound seeming to come from miles away. Zayn gently pulled away from Liam’s lips, still incredibly close but allowing both of them to see who was there.

Niall, Harry, and Louis were standing uncomfortably by the door. Their eyes were wide, having just seen two of their best friends kissing. Liam’s eyes ticked to meet Louis’. The Doncaster boy had a red mark on his cheek, clearly from a good hard slap or two.

Liam sat up slightly in the bed, and Zayn, taking the hint, moved back to sit in his chair by Liam’s side. “Hello again, boys,” Liam greeted his bandmates, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Have we all calmed down enough to talk about this like adults?”

Harry and Niall muttered assent, taking their respective seats around Liam’s bedside. Louis looked right at Zayn. “Sorry, Zayn,” he apologized sheepishly. “I was a real ass. I’m sorry; I was just a bit overwhelmed by all the news. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, Liam,” he added. “Let’s all just talk.”

“No worries,” Liam quickly replied, and Zayn nodded. “It’s completely understandable.”

“Thanks, mate,” Louis said gratefully, sinking into his chair.

They sat like that for a few moments, just staring at each other. Then Harry broke out in a large, goofy smile. “I’m gonna be an uncle!” he crowed.

And then all of the boys were laughing and crowding onto the hospital bed, thumping each other on the back and somewhere in the middle of it Niall was congratulating Zayn for knocking Liam up. Liam, though he was nearly suffocating under the press of bodies, knew he’d never been happier.

* * *

By 3:00 the next afternoon, Zayn was pushing Liam out of the hospital in a wheelchair and the other three lads were hovering around like guards, protecting against the press of paparazzi, reporters, and fans, all asking about Zayn’s purple bruise and Liam’s health.

Police seemed to materialize out of nowhere, forming a circle around the boys and pushing a path through the onslaught of people that were all dying to get a picture of Liam and Zayn’s black eye. They finally made it to the waiting van and Liam stood up and hopped into the vehicle. Zayn, Harry, Niall, and Louis followed suit. They ended up with Zayn and Liam being on one seat and the other three on the seat across from them.

They’d talked to Paul and had had an extremely heated teleconference with management, and they’d reached a decision about Liam. They’d record a video of them telling the world of Liam, Zayn, and the pregnancy resulting thereof. They’d then post it on all the boys’ Twitter accounts and on the official website.

As fat as their career went, it would go as planned. They’d perform as many concerts as they could before Liam was taken out of commission. Of course, they couldn’t just continue the shows without Liam. He was the backbone of most of the songs and the rest of the boys had refused to perform without him. They’d rescheduled all of the shows they’d be missing and would be sending out new tickets and information to the ticketholders for those events after the announcement was made.

By far, the most grueling part of the whole process had been when Zayn and Liam had called their mothers to inform them of the news and instruct them not to reveal anything. Each phone call had to first consist of them coming out to their mothers, and then admitting that they were in a relationship, and then drop the bomb that was the big news. Each conversation had taken at least an hour.

So now the boys were on their way to their hotel, where they’d record their video and subsequently post it.

“If it’s a boy, name him Harry!” Harry insisted to Liam, prodding him with his feet.

Liam groaned. “Sure, Haz. Whatever you say.”

Louis suddenly burst out laughing, doubling over in his seat. Niall poked him in the arm curiously. “You okay?” the Irishman asked.

“It’s just” – Louis paused to laugh again – “you really are Daddy Direction now!”

“Are you kidding me, Lou?” Liam asked exasperatedly, but he had to admit that it was funny and a bit ironic that it was him that was saddled with the nickname and the real burden. He chuckled and kicked Louis, grinning wildly when Louis cried exaggeratedly and fell into Harry’s arms, screaming about how it’d hurt. Liam snuggled under Zayn’s arm as it rested across his shoulders, feeling at peace as Zayn’s familiar scent enveloped him. Smelling of cologne and the cinnamon buns they’d shared for breakfast. He felt himself drifting off to sleep, his head sliding downwards until it rested on the chest that had carried him to safety just a few days before.

* * *

Paul escorted them into Liam’s suite in their hotel, instructing them to sit on the couch. He took a video camera from his bag and set it out on a tripod in front of the five boys. “Now, you just arrange yourselves so Liam’s in the center, Zayn on his right, Niall next to Zayn…and Harry and Louis, you go on Liam’s other side. Good? Good. Just explain the situation calmly and assure the fans that you’re still the same people you always were. Okay?” When the boys nodded nervously, Paul hit RECORD on the camera, signaling Liam to start.

His heart beating a mile a minute, Liam gave a wave to the camera. “Hi, guys!” he called cheerily, feigning nonchalance. “So I know I gave you a right scare when I had to go to the hospital two days ago. But I guess I’m thankful that Zayn was there to carry me out. And we” – he gestured to the rest of the lads on the couch – “feel that you, as the fans, should know why I was so sick like that so suddenly.” Liam swallowed and averted his eyes from the camera, looking at Zayn, who nodded solemnly. On his left, he felt Louis nudge his knee with his own. Spurred on by his friends’ encouragement, Liam looked back at the camera. “You see, when I was born, it was with a rare genetic mutation called the Brochten mutation. It creates an extra organ that is useless most of the time, except for a small period of days each month or so. During that period, it’s possible for me to…” Liam trailed off, biting his lip, but a comforting arm around his shoulders assured him of safety. Liam blew caution to the winds, raised his gaze again, and bluntly stated, “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and I’m gay and Zayn is the father of our child.” He purposefully reached over and took Zayn’s hand firmly in his own. He was determined now to claim Zayn and be proud of what and who they were as a couple.

“They’re still the same Liam and Zayn that you know and love,” Niall interjected fiercely, protectively. “They’re still amazing singers and the fact that they’re a couple doesn’t change that.”

“We’re behind them to the end,” Louis said solemnly.

“We’ll always support our friends,” Harry added. “They’re like our brothers. Really, they are.”

Zayn finally spoke up, his endearing accent calming Liam’s fried nerves. “We’re going to continue all scheduled events until Liam is six months along, at which point we will reschedule concerts. But interviews are still on until Liam is eight months along.”

“And I’d like to say a truly massive thank you for all the support you’ve given us so far and hopefully in the future,” Liam said. Then he gave a half grin. “And I suppose you can expect Twitter updates on the progress!”

“Thanks again,” Zayn said quietly, waving his and Liam’s clasped hands. “Bye!”

“Bye!” the rest of the boys chorused, and Paul stopped recording.

“Stellar, boys, really.” Their tour manager ejected the memory card on the camera and hooked it up to his computer, waiting patiently while the video downloaded. When the file was complete, Paul opened up Twitter and the official 1D website. “Here we go,” he said, and posted the video on the band’s website and Twitter account. “Liam, you next.”

Liam grabbed the laptop and quickly logged on, deftly letting his fingers fly across the keys to type a quick message and imbed the fateful video. He posted the tweet and wordlessly handed the computer to Zayn.

By the time it was Niall’s turn, they were trending worldwide.

#Ziam

Liam is pregnant

#1Disgay

Liam buried his head in his hands. “This is hopeless,” he groaned, taking out his phone to check his Twitter. Sure enough, he was already swamped with tweets from fans, critics, celebrities, and the inevitable haters.

@sasha1Dluvver: @Real_Liam_Payne OMG congrats!!! U and Zayn r gonna be perfect parents!!!! <3

@purplegirl16: @Real_Liam_Payne you and @zaynmalik are going to rot in hell. Ugh.

Unable to hold back any longer, Liam broke down and started sobbing. It wasn’t even normal crying, like with sniffs and a few tears. No, this felt like somebody had torn his lungs out and he was fighting for air, like his heart had been crushed by every single passing minute as his phone dropped to the floor, its screen flickering with messages of hate for a child that must’ve drawn the short straw to be stuck inside the body of a man. No, Liam thought as he crumpled off the couch and onto his knees. Not a man.

Just a boy.

Just a nineteen-year-old boy.

“I – I can’t,” he managed to gasp out between shuddering breaths. His entire body shook with the effort of crying. “How can I when…when there’s all this?!” He fell on his side, curling up on the lush hotel carpet, clutching at the fibers like they were the only things anchoring him to his sanity. Perhaps they were.

Through the haze of his agony, Liam vaguely was aware of Zayn telling the others to leave, that he’d handle it. He might’ve heard the door to the suite shut. He might’ve heard the lock click into place. But maybe he was imagining that, hallucinating because reality was just too goddamn hard for him right now.

But even through the pain and sobs, Liam was fully aware of Zayn, sweet Zayn, sitting down on the floor, his back to the couch, and lifting Liam into his arms. They sat like that for whoever knew how long, Liam crying shamelessly into Zayn’s chest while Zayn hummed some unfamiliar tune and rocked Liam back and forth, back and forth. Like he was a child again. And in that, Liam felt safe. Because he knew that Zayn would always be there to shield him from the hate. He knew that Zayn would let him shoulder off the burden of being the sensible one and would just let him be the Liam that needed to be held close and loved to watch Toy Story. Because Zayn knew him like that.

And in Zayn’s arms, Liam felt his crying ease. He sniffed once; twice. Tried to draw in a deep breath.

“That’s good, Li,” Zayn soothed, voice low and rough and maybe also carrying shed tears. “Just breathe. Let’s breathe.”

“What time is it?” Liam whispered, drawing in a stilted, shuddering breath.

Zayn shifted a little bit. “Half past eight,” he finally said. “It’s late.”

Liam lifted his face from the comfort of Zayn’s chest and looked up at his boyfriend’s face. “Take me to bed?” he asked, feeling impossibly frail after hours of weeping.

“Of course.” Zayn tightened his hold on Liam and stood up carefully, using the couch as leverage. He walked slowly towards the adjoining bedroom in the suite, his steady steps nearly lulling Liam to sleep. When they finally made it, Zayn carefully placed Liam on the mattress, as if he were a glass doll.

Liam scooted over in the bed and patted the covers. “Come lay with me, Zee,” he invited quietly. He watched as Zayn pried off his tearstained T-shirt, leaving him bare-chested with his many tattoos gleaming off his tanned skin. When the Pakistani boy had settled down on his side, facing Liam, Liam traced his finger along the beautiful cheekbones he so adored. He wiped away the wetness there. “You’ve been crying,” he whispered matter-of-factly.

Zayn bit his lip. “It hurts to see you so sad,” he told Liam, and the anguish in his voice was all-too evident.

“I guess I just realized the full weight of what’s going on,” Liam replied, absently running his finger along the contours of Zayn’s face. “I’m pregnant, Zayn, and a good amount of the world hates me for it.”

“But there’s still the people that love you for it,” Zayn countered with a watery grin. “Me and Haz and Niall and Lou. We all love you. And don’t for a second think that we’d ever let you take this burden yourself. This is on me too, Liam. You just have to let me walk you through this.” Zayn’s fingers deftly worked at the buttons on Liam’s shirt, pulling the fabric up Liam’s arms and away. Liam closed his eyes as Zayn’s fingers began to roam over his chest, exploring every inch of skin, slowly moving down until Zayn’s fingers were splayed across Liam’s abdomen, like they had been that first day in the hospital. “Just think, Liam. Think of what’s happened here,” Zayn whispered, his breath hot and smooth on Liam’s ear. “No matter what happens with the media or whatever else, you’ll always be my beautiful Liam.” Zayn’s lips traveled from Liam’s ear to his neck, pressing light kisses to the skin there.

Liam rolled over onto his back, tossing his head back while Zayn crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and still keeping hands pressed on Liam’s stomach. “Zayn,” he breathed, gasping when Zayn savagely sucked a mark onto his collarbone, peppering the red mark with kisses before he traveled downward, kissing every bit of Liam until he reached Liam’s stomach. He stopped completely, and Liam ran a hand through Zayn’s thick hair. “Zee?” He received no response, and craned his neck to see that Zayn was staring at Liam’s stomach with a fierce expression that Liam couldn’t place. “Zayn?” he asked again.

Zayn’s head snapped up, and Liam sucked in a breath at the sheer protectiveness and love that shone in Zayn’s dark brown eyes. “Never,” Zayn mumbled, and Liam felt Zayn’s fingers slightly squeeze his stomach, the thumbs lightly stroking the skin there.

“Never what, Zee?” Liam asked confusedly, almost worriedly.

Zayn pressed a soft kiss to Liam’s stomach, lips lingering before he crawled up Liam’s body, pressing their foreheads together and entwining their fingers. His eyes searched Liam’s, those familiar brown eyes that Liam adored filled with love. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Liam,” he promised, his voice husky and rough with the force of his words. “Never. Not you or our child. Never, Liam. They’ll never break our family.”

At the last word, Liam let out a wordless noise of shock and closed the distance between them, capturing Zayn’s soft lips in a kiss long overdue. He didn’t even bother to waste time on soft kisses on the lips. No, Zayn’s fierce display of love and dedication had left Liam breathless, and he was desperate for Zayn, needed him more than ever. He parted his lips and ran his tongue over Zayn’s full lips, begging for entrance. Zayn granted him access quickly, letting Liam take control of the kiss while he ran his own hands over Liam’s body, down his sides and toward the front of Liam’s jeans. Liam whined into Zayn’s mouth and arched into the older boy’s touch. “Zayn,” he gasped against Zayn’s lips. “Zayn, please.”

Zayn grinned against Liam and easily pulled open the button and zipper of his lover’s jeans, sliding them off his waist and down to his ankles, where Liam kicked them off the rest of the way. Clad only in their briefs, Zayn groaned at the friction between them, chuckling low in his throat as Liam whined desperately and pulled at the waistband of Zayn’s briefs.

“Take these off,” Zayn growled, pulling the elastic band down and past Liam’s thighs, grinning when Liam’s cock sprang free of its confines, hard and curling towards his stomach. He let his hand take a few lazy strokes down its length, watching as Liam bit his lip and whined through his teeth.

Liam did the same for Zayn, nearly purring to himself when he noticed how hard Zayn was. He watched with wide eyes as Zayn leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved a familiar black bottle.

Zayn pressed a tender kiss to Liam’s lips, for a moment devoid of any of the evening’s lust. ”Let me make you feel good,” he whispered against Liam’s hair.

“Please,” Liam managed to reply, and before he knew it he was spreading his legs and Zayn’s two fingers were working into him, stretching him with a practiced familiarity because only Zayn could make Liam feel good like this.

Soon, the burn became a warm sparking of pleasure, making Liam squeeze his eyes shut when Zayn’s fingertips brushed so close oh god so close to his prostate until he was begging Zayn, begging “Please Zayn, now, now!”

And Zayn was always a slave to Liam’s desires, to his heart, and if that was what Liam wanted then it was he got. Fingers were replaced by hard flesh, pushing in slowly at first but Liam nodded and impatiently ground his hips downward, making both of them gasp from the sensation.

“Just do it already,” Liam growled, his legs wrapping around Zayn’s waist, heels dug in so deep that they’d surely leave bruises.

Zayn dipped his head low, lips working around the birthmark on Liam’s neck that he so adored, hips moving back and then snapping forward with such force that Liam arched his back, eyes flying wide and hands scrabbling at Zayn’s back. They built up a steady rhythm in a similar fashion, each thrust from Zayn eliciting a low moan from Liam’s throat.

“My Liam,” Zayn hissed, breath hot as pitch against Liam’s ear. “The things I’d do for you.”

“Zayn!” Liam ground out, hands grabbing desperately at the bedsheets. “Fuck, Zayn!”

“So beautiful when you curse,” Zayn murmured, a hand wrapping around Liam’s neglected cock, stroking at it quickly. “So beautiful when you let yourself go.”

Liam shuddered, trembling as he felt the sensations get overwhelming, threatening to spill over. “Zayn!” he screamed, back arching at the same time as Zayn bit down fiercely on his collarbone, the feeling of being claimed all over too much as he came violently in Zayn’s warm hand.

Zayn groaned low in his throat, a hiss of “Fuck, Liam!” falling from his lips as he thrust one last time before coming inside Liam, a growl nearly rising to a scream as he reached his orgasm.

The older boy pulled out slowly once he was done, noting the hypersensitivity of both of them as he collapsed next to Liam on the bed. Liam turned his head to look at his lover, a finger tracing the sweat-lined cheekbone he found there.

“That was…nice,” Zayn murmured, pressing a small kiss to Liam’s lips.

“Thank you, Zayn,” Liam breathed, snuggling in close to his boyfriend.

Zayn’s arms wrapped around the younger boy instinctively, and he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I meant what I said when I promised nobody would hurt you,” he told Liam quietly. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Liam whispered, sounding dangerously groggy. “Zayn…”

“Hmm?” Zayn asked. When he received no reply, he smiled. Liam was asleep. He kicked his feet around for a second, finally snagging a sheet on his toe. Zayn then pulled the cover over the two of them, pressing close to Liam as he, too, succumbed to a sated slumber.

* * *

When Zayn woke the next morning, it was to filtered sunshine and Liam’s voice in his ear.

“Good morning, Zee. You need to get ready; we have an interview at 10,” Liam cooed. “Come on, I’ve ordered us some room service to share. Get up!”

Zayn rolled over and grabbed a pillow, trying to whack Liam away with it. “No,” he groaned.

“Don’t make me throw out your hair products!” Liam warned. “And I swear, Zayn, I will. I will throw them out the window to the fans.”

Zayn bolted upright and sat straight up in the bed, staring in horror at Liam, who had a smirk on his face. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.

Liam held up three combs and a tube of Zayn’s favorite hair gel. “I would.”

Giving in, Zayn rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed, snatching the products out of Liam’s hands. “Alright, I’m up,” he grumbled. “What did you order?” he asked, turning back to the bed to pick up his discarded underwear, pulling it on quickly.

“Toast and omelets,” Liam replied stepping over to Zayn to give him a kiss. “Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Zayn purred back, running his hands up Liam’s well-muscled chest, raising his fingers to touch the mark he’d made prominently on Liam’s collarbone, smiling in satisfaction when Liam shuddered at the touch to the hypersensitive mark. “Mine,” Zayn reminded Liam again, pressing a quick kiss to the bruise. He bent down on his knees and kissed Liam’s bare stomach, grinning when Liam laughed at his goofiness. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower, babe.”

Liam barked out a laugh. “Quick shower. You?”

Zayn feigned offense. “I’ve changed!” he declared, pulling his underwear off again and heading to the bathroom.

When he came out eight minutes later, it was into a living room full of four fifths of One Direction, all eating various foods. Zayn was thankful that he had chosen to put jeans and a T-shirt on rather than just his underwear.

“Zayniepoo!” Louis crowed, his mouth full of toast. “Look at the nice domestic father!”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Is this really already going to be a thing?” he asked exasperatedly, but he couldn’t help but grin. Louis was irresistible.

Niall, who was sprawled out on the couch, commented, “I’m just surprised that he took less than an hour in the bathroom.”

Liam chuckled from where he sat on the floor, tapping away at his phone. “It’s a shocker for all of us, Niall,” he muttered.

Zayn stalked over to his boyfriend and bent over him, trying to see the screen of the phone. “And what are you up to, Sir Cheerful?”

“Just texting Paul that you’re actually dressed and about to eat,” Liam replied. He pointed to the coffee table in front of Niall. “Your omelet is there.”

“I was under the impression that this was just going to be a ‘you and me’ thing for breakfast,” Zayn grumbled as he walked over and grabbed his meal.

Harry grinned. “Not getting rid of us that easily, Malik!” he chirped. “Just ‘cause you’re an official couple with a pop star bun in the oven doesn’t mean you’re an exclusive pair!”

Zayn glared at the cheeky boy over his bite of toast. “Kinda does,” he retorted.

Louis threw a pillow at Harry. “Yeah, Haz, be polite!” he scolded playfully. “The King and Queen might get offended!”

Zayn never did get to finish his breakfast, since he ended up in a pileup of boys that only ceased to exist after Paul let himself into their room, barking orders at the boys to get ready. Zayn, of course, dashed to the bathroom to fix his hair.

He stood in front of the mirror, hands working at creating the famed quiff that had become his trademark look. He was so caught up in the task that he didn’t even notice when Liam walked in, only acknowledging his presence when Liam caught his wrists and took them down from Zayn’s hair. “You look perfect. Stop worrying,” Liam chided, turning Zayn around and fixing his shirt. “Just fix these wrinkles.”

“Why’re you so worried about my looks?” Zayn asked, straightening Liam’s plaid button-down for good measure. He took his black leather jacket from the hook on the bathroom door and slipped it on.

“Well, this will be our first public appearance after the big announcement,” Liam informed him matter-of-factly in that adorable tone of his. “We should look presentable.”

“We look fine,” Zayn assured his fussing lover, escorting him out of the bathroom, marveling at how much he himself had changed in just this short amount of time since learning about Liam’s pregnancy. Already, he was taking less time to present himself individually but was working more on taking care of Liam. “Anyway,” he added as they walked back into the main area of the suite, “we shouldn’t look like we’re trying too hard.”

Harry looked up as they entered. “Zayn’s right, lads,” he announced. “Ready to go?”

Zayn reached over and firmly grabbed Liam’s hand, holding it shamelessly. “Ready.”

“Let’s go, then!” Niall exclaimed, and he led their group march out of the suite and down the hallway towards the elevators. They all piled into the first car that arrived, and as the doors slid shut, Niall asked curiously, “Liam, how’s your stomach been feeling?”

Liam groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he sighed.

Niall grimaced sympathetically. “Bad luck, mate. We’ve got your back,” he assured as the elevator halted at the lobby. He faced forwards. “Prepare for the mad dash to the van from the front entrance, boys,” he hooted. “It’s us against hundreds of—”

“Ziam shippers!” Harry cried excitedly.

The other four boys stared at him in surprise.

Louis rounded on Harry, his face contorted in shocked disbelief. “You know their ship name?” he asked in mock disgust. “I can’t believe you, Styles.”

Paul interrupted them by announcing, “We’ve got police clearing a path outside. Just move quickly.”

Zayn squeezed Liam’s hand, suddenly aware of how clammy his own was. They walked through the busy lobby, Zayn’s heart pounding as the screams of the people outside grew in volume. Paul pushed open the front door and the sunlight and deafening shrieks washed over them.

Niall exited first, hurriedly speeding to the black van and high-fiving a few lucky fans. Harry ducked out next, acknowledging the shrieks with his trademark megawatt smile and slow wave. Louis followed not far behind, waving and declining a bag of carrots that was offered to him. By the time he was almost to the van, Louis stopped and somehow managed to catch Niall and Harry’s attention. Then he turned around and beckoned Liam and Zayn.

Zayn looked over at Liam. “Ready, love?” he asked with a nervous smile.

“Ready when you are,” Liam replied, squeezing Zayn’s hand back. Zayn felt Paul push at his back, so he reached out with his free arm and pushed the door open, guiding Liam into the sunlight.

Hundreds of cameras turned on them, aiming for their faces, their touching shoulders; their clasped hands. Reporters shouted questions at them, and news crews pushed through the crowd to get a clear shot. The fans went insane as Zayn and Liam hurried past, screaming and crying their love and endless questions. A few ‘boos’ broke through the wall of noise, and Zayn felt Liam wince beside him. But he just tried to comfort him as best he could by stroking his thumb across the back of Liam’s hand, pulling him along when a fan managed to grab hold of Liam’s shirt. He caught up with Louis and patted him on the back. “Thanks, mate,” he yelled over the noise.

Louis just shrugged, an entire reply conveyed in the gesture. No thanks necessary, his eyes said. This is what you do for a brother. He hopped into the van.

Zayn pushed Liam into the safe interior of the van first, shielding him with his own body before turning to the crowd, for a second just staring at the cameras and reporters and fans, just daring them to hurt Liam. No one would hurt their little family of five – no, six now.

Not if Zayn could help it.

He broke his stare and jumped into the van, watching as Paul slid the door shut.

“Well, you certainly didn’t have to intimidate the poor fans!” Liam protested half-heartedly as Zayn slid into the seat next to him.

“Maybe I wanted to, if it meant keeping you safe,” Zayn shot back, pecking Liam on the lips in a quick kiss.

Harry groaned. “Already with the PDA. Keep it to yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Malik.”

Liam kicked Harry for the subtle insinuation that he was the woman in the relationship. That earned him a retort from Louis that he was, in fact, pregnant, so that made him the woman. Zayn just smiled and leaned back, looking out the window at New York City and hearing his bandmates’ argument go on until they reached the interview venue. It was the building where Good Morning America was filmed, and the sidewalk was positively mobbed with fans with neon banners and camera crews desperate to get exclusive footage of the first pregnant man that was part of the biggest boy band in the world. Fans immediately descended on the van as soon as it pulled up to the curb, slamming at the windows and screaming so that their breath fogged up the tinted glass. It was quite disconcerting.

“Jesus,” Niall breathed from his seat, staring right at a girl who was pressed up against the window like a barnacle. “Americans.”

Zayn nodded, watching as the police began to set up barricades to forge a path through the girls. “Americans,” he echoed. He never had been able to wrap his head around the fact that One Direction was so popular in foreign countries as major as America.

Paul glanced back into the van, unlocking the doors. “When I get to your door, throw it open and run. There’s no time for autographs or pictures or anything. The fans are going to overpower the police if you take too long. Clear?” When the boys nodded, Paul hopped out of his seat and into the crowd, which let out a cheer for the lovable bodyguard. He hurried o the door that had the boys, standing next to it and watching for those fans or reporters.

Liam broke past Zayn and threw the door open eagerly, greeting the cameras and surging fans with a dazzling smile as he hopped out of the van. “Liam!” Zayn called worriedly, fearing for Liam’s safety and trying to leap out of the van to protect him, but the rest of the boys beat him to it and jumped out, waving and half-jogging to the doors. Zayn, insanely frustrated, growled to himself in annoyance and stepped out of the van, raising a hand in greeting as he ran down the sidewalk and into the building.

The boys were waiting in the lobby with Paul. Liam immediately stepped over to Zayn and put his arm around Zayn’s shoulders, fingers lightly caressing Zayn’s neck. “I was waiting for you,” he whispered.

“You ran away,” Zayn retorted. “You’re making it pretty damn hard for me to protect you when you ran away.”

“Sorry,” Liam replied quietly as they were led into the wings beside the studio’s set. “It’s been a few days, Zayn. I’m not about to give birth on the floor, and I’m just not used to the idea that I’m living for two right now. I love that you’re so protective, but sometimes we just need to calm down. I’m still your Liam.”

Zayn turned his head to look right into Liam’s warm brown eyes. “Sorry, Li,” he murmured, touching their foreheads together. “I know it’s hard to be more careful when you’re so young and I’m sorry that I’ve been so overbearing.”

“All is forgiven.” Liam grinned as the hair and makeup team rushed in, separating them and carefully worrying over their iconic hairstyles. Before long, the show was cutting to commercial with the promise of One Direction after the break. The makeup team was ushered away and the boys were taken just out of view of the camera. The host walked over to them and smiled.

“Well, boys, I hope you don’t mind if we have an order for you to sit in on the couch!” She didn’t even pause to get their actual input before barreling on. “Niall, you’ll sit closest to me, then Harry, then Zayn, then Liam and then Louis. Good?” She gave them a thumbs-up and hurried off to her chair as the cameraman counted down and called ‘action’. “Welcome back to our show! As promised, here is the most famous group in years! Yes, they’re the boys that have captured our hearts and gone international in just a few years! Here they are: Niall, Harry, Zayn, Liam, and Louis! That’s right; it’s One Direction!” The small studio audience clapped and the fans outside screamed.

They walked in in the order that they’d been put in, waving to the camera and the people outside. “Hello!” Harry said cheerily as he plopped down on the couch next to Niall. Zayn followed suit, with Liam sitting down nearly on top of him to make room for Louis.

“Welcome, boys! This is so exciting; your new album is a hit and you’re back here in America!” the host exclaimed. “How does it feel to be so big?”

Niall answered that question. “Well, sometimes it’s just unreal. You know, it’s like just yesterday we were auditioning for the X Factor and now we’re huge all over the world.”

“It’s been truly surreal, really,” Louis piped up. “Like we always say, we’re just five lads having fun and living the dream.”

“That’s good,” the host encouraged. “But before we get to the real questions, I suppose we have to acknowledge the massive purple elephant in the room.” She fixed her gaze on Zayn and Liam. “Zayn and Liam, yesterday you caused a worldwide uproar. Twitter crashed, and social networking was completely filled with your news and faces. And for good reason too! Two of the world’s biggest hotties are in a relationship, and” – she paused almost as if she was in disbelief – “Liam is expecting!”

Zayn glanced at Liam for a moment, and Liam nodded slightly to allow him to speak. Zayn put his hand on Liam’s knee and began, knowing that his words today would affect how he and Liam were viewed in the public eye forever. “Well, you know I’ve known Liam for years and lived with him just as long. I guess a few months ago we just realized that we felt something for each other. As for the pregnancy, we didn’t know about Liam having the mutation, so it was a bit of a happy accident, I suppose.” He shrugged.

Liam cut in, “And, of course, it’s only been a few days that we’ve known, so I suppose that it’s still yet to sink in.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling up in the most adorable way. “So it’s all new to us, and I suppose we’re playing it by ear right now. We’re lucky to have such generous family and management and fans, so we’re fortunate to have received a mostly positive welcome for both our sexuality and for the baby.”

Zayn felt a mild thrill go through him at the word. Baby…a baby and it was inside Liam. He glanced at the rest of the lads and saw that they, too, were letting the full weight of the word hit them.

The interviewer broke the silence by saying, “I have to ask. Zayn, that’s quite a shiner. How’d you get it?”

Zayn laughed, touching the still-purple bruise that he’d nearly forgotten about. “Um, actually, Louis punched me when he found out that I was the father of the baby.”

The audience howled and Louis shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “What can I say?” he asked with a wide grin. “I was surprised!”

“Surprise hurts!” Zayn protested, reaching across Liam to punch Louis on the arm.

The interview went on in a similar fashion, with Louis and Harry cracking jokes, Liam answering all of the serious question and Zayn and Niall talking when they needed to and laughing when the situation called for it. Pretty routine, to sum it up.

“This is your last week in America, correct?” the interviewer inquired.

Harry nodded. “Yup, and then we’re off to cloudy old London.”

“I’d rather have cloudy London than burning hot American deserts!” Niall retorted.

The boys and audience laughed, and the interviewer said, “Well, boys, it’s been great to have you here, and best of luck in all future matters, since you’ll be lucky enough to be home for Christmas! Bye, One Direction, and America’s love goes with you!”

“Thank you,” Zayn said sincerely, and he was echoed by the rest of the boys. The audience clapped, they waved, and the ON AIR sign flicked off.

Paul immediately rushed in and gathered the boys up. “You have an album signing in fifteen minutes,” he said frantically, hurrying them out of the studio and out of the back entrance of the building, putting them into the waiting van quickly.

Zayn smiled and leaned against the window. Life was going well.

* * *

Two months later found the five boys crowded into a hospital room as the doctor squirted clear gel onto Liam’s stomach, which was now rounded into a slight but noticeable bump.

Liam had long since finished lamenting the loss of his trademark stellar body and the abs that Zayn worshipped so much. But yet again, as he flinched against the sudden cold of the gel, he felt a twinge of loss for the young, ambitious, straight-haired boy he had been and that had now been replaced with a world-famous pregnant singer. But Zayn was there next to him, holding his hand and anchoring Liam to this new reality that he lived in now. The three boys that Liam knew as his brothers were huddled around the reclining chair that Liam sat in, eyes wide and lips quirking into smiles as they joked around.

“Well, Liam,” Doctor Frasier announced, “It’s time to find out the gender of little Baby Direction here.”

Liam grinned. He liked Dr. Frasier, the 30-something year old man who always had a bit of humor mixed in with his matter-of-fact encyclopedic knowledge of all things pregnancy. “Indeed it is,” Liam replied. His heart was racing now, the anticipation killing him.

Zayn squeezed Liam’s hand, and Liam only then realized just how clammy Zayn’s hand was. The Pakistani boy’s hand was trembling in Liam’s and Liam could see the anxiety drawn out in thin lines on Zayn’s forehead. “Ready, Liam?” Zayn asked, his voice tense with nerves.

“Let’s do it,” Liam answered quietly as Dr. Frasier turned the ultrasound machine on. He swallowed when the instrument was placed on his swollen stomach. This was real. This was happening.

Dr. Frasier gestured to the screen which projected what the ultrasound was seeing. All Liam could decipher were black and white blobs, which really weren’t that exciting.

“What an entertaining view of Liam’s stomach,” Louis commented dryly.

The obstetrician grinned. “Well, Louis, what you just saw was his liver, which is in fact quite interesting.” He reached over and flicked the audio on. Immediately, a hurried, strong lub-dub, lub-dub filled the room with its incessant bass tones. “That’s Liam’s heartbeat,” Dr. Frasier informed them. He scooched the ultrasound instrument over an inch and a frenzied whish-whoosh, light and flurried and fast, was heard along with Liam’s heart. “And that’s the baby’s heart,” Dr. Frasier explained.

Zayn’s hand tightened on Liam’s, and Harry, the big softie that he was, let out a small ‘wow’ of awe.

“That’s the baby’s heart?” Liam asked in disbelief.

“And this” – Dr. Frasier pointed to the pale form that appeared among the dark colors on the screen – “is your child.”

Liam gazed in awe at the screen, at the curled white shape with a head and little stubs of legs and arms. And his chest tightened and a lump formed in his throat. Because this was a life growing in side of him, and it was on the screen, showing itself in a beautiful, surreal way. Warmth traced its way down his cheek, and Liam recognized it as a tear. Tearing his eyes away from the captivating image for a moment, Liam forced his gaze over to Zayn.

And he was overwhelmed.

Zayn was biting his lip, his jaw trembling. The usually strong and silent boy, who put up a wall between himself and his heart, had tears of joy spilling down his cheeks and tracing their way across the flawless skin they found there. And that was just beautiful, because it was then that Liam realized that Zayn was part of this too, that this was Zayn’s child too.

“And the gender…” Dr. Frasier muttered suddenly, squinting with a practiced eye at the screen.

Liam and Zayn looked back at the doctor, and Louis, Niall, and Harry watched with bated breath.

Dr. Frasier smiled warmly at them. “Congratulations. You have a healthy son.”

The room exploded with energy. Niall and Louis were jumping around happily, cheering and babbling about how brilliant it would be to have another boy in their lives. Harry was crying too, his green eyes wide and wet and happy, and he grinned at Liam and Zayn. “Congrats,” Harry told them, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Good thing, too!” Louis exclaimed. “Imagine raising a girl in a house full of boys!”

Liam’s son. Zayn’s son. Zayn and Liam’s son. Liam and Zayn’s son. Their son.

Their son.

Their son.

“Zayn,” Liam whispered, realizing that he was grinning like an idiot and his cheeks hurt. “Zayn, we’re having a boy.”

“Liam,” Zayn replied in an equally quiet tone. “We’re having a boy.”

Liam grinned at Zayn. “I already said that, you donut!” he exclaimed, hitting Zayn playfully on the arm.

Dr. Frasier took the ultrasound instrument and put it back in its holder, paused the video, and gave a towel to Zayn. “Here, make yourself useful and clean off your poor pregnant boyfriend,” he said in a joking tone.

Zayn took the towel and painstakingly began to wipe the ultrasound gel off of Liam’s bulging belly. He was so gentle as he did it, as if the slightest pressure would break Liam and the baby boy that was inside him. It touched Liam, really, that Zayn was being so protective and sweet to him, that he was taking responsibility and trying as much as humanly possible to help Liam. When the cleaning was one, Zayn kissed Liam’s stomach and then pulled Liam’s shirt down to cover the bare skin.

“How’s the nausea been, Liam?” Dr. Frasier asked, tapping away at the ultrasound machine.

Liam shrugged. “It’s been pretty bad lately,” he admitted. “And the headaches too. Particularly after a concert.”

“When’s your next concert?” the doctor asked.

“Five days from now,” Niall answered. “We’re taking a few days off.”

Dr. Frasier nodded approvingly. “That’s good, because I’m going to want you to take it easy and rest for a while. Okay?” When Liam nodded, Dr. Frasier pushed a final button on the machine and a disc slid out. The obstetrician took a CD case and placed the disc inside, grabbing a black Sharpie and scribbling MALIK-PAYNE BABY BOY on the cover of the case. He handed the CD to Liam. “That’s the ultrasound, so you can have this video of your son for ages to come.” He grinned. “Get going, now, lads. Got tell the world of the glorious news!”

Zayn helped Liam out of the soft chair, pulling him to his feet carefully. After giving Zayn a quick kiss on the cheek, Liam walked around the chair and gave Dr. Frasier a hug. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Liam, I’m just the messenger, bringing the good news,” the doctor told him with a kind smile. “You and Zayn take care now.” He shook the boys’ hands and clapped Zayn on the back. “Harry, Niall, and Louis, you make sure to watch over them.” He ushered them out of the hospital room.

“Bye, Dr. Frasier!” the boys all chorused, and for a moment it felt like old times to Liam.

As they walked towards the front lobby, Liam slipped the CD into the backpack he had taken to carrying lately. It joined the prenatal medication, vitamin supplements, water bottles, snacks, and other various items that Liam or the other boys could ever need.

“Name him Harry,” Harry insisted jokingly.

Louis punched Harry on the arm. “No, Haz, they’re not stupid. If anything, they’ll name him Louis Maximillian.”

“Or Jennifer is just as likely,” Niall scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Zayn mused jokingly, swinging his and Liam’s interlocked hands while they walked. “I think Jennifer would be a perfect name.”

“If you name out son Jennifer, I will personally end your life,” Liam warned with a dead serious face. When Zayn paled considerably, Liam nudged Zayn’s shoulder. “Joking,” he laughed. “Lighten up.”

They met Paul by the front doors of the hospital. “Well?” their tour manager asked, an expectant look on his face.

Wordlessly, Liam took the CD out of his backpack and showed the cover to Paul.

Paul’s eyes widened and he laughed, gathering all of them into a hug. “Congratulations, boys,” he told them. “You’ve come a long way.’ When they broke apart, he looked right at Zayn and Liam. “And you two had better tell your mums before the world or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“We’ll call on the ride back to the complex,” Liam assured Paul. “Right, Zayn?” He looked at Zayn and for a heartbeat, he imagined the face of his unborn son, with Zayn’s gorgeous features and maybe a bit of Liam’s eyes, held in Zayn’s arms.

But then it was just Zayn, who nodded with the most brilliant smile Liam had ever seen.

That night, as they stripped out of their jeans and sweaters and huddled close together underneath the covers, Liam whispered, “I love you, Zayn.”

Zayn just grinned into Liam’s neck. “I already knew that,” he breathed back.

* * *

By the time Liam was six months along, he was getting quite round and only fit into baggy sweatpants and Zayn’s biggest shirts, which were getting very tight on him as well. He had rounded out all over, his chiseled face softening as the pregnancy put its weight on him. His hair had been neglected, allowed to grow out of its styled quiff and into the flatter, longer hairstyle that he’d had before. Zayn had taken to touching Liam’s hair as often as possible, never tiring of the feel of the unusually silky locks slipping through his fingers.

Liam’s personality had taken a noticeable turn as well. There were the times when Zayn would come home from a night out with Niall and he would find Liam on the couch, looking through photo albums of the band and telling the story of each picture to their unborn son. There were the times when Liam would simply talk about their son and simply call him Baby, which only he declared himself allowed to do. And those little things about Liam made Zayn’s heart melt.

But, of course, with every good thing that came from the ongoing pregnancy, there were the things that just ruined Zayn’s mood.

There was even less privacy than before. Not only were he and Liam part of an international singing sensation group, now they were the most well-known gay couple in the world. And on top of that, there was the constant scrutiny about Liam’s pregnancy, since he was one of the first recorded cases of a pregnancy due to the Brochten mutation. There seemed to be a press conference every day, and they were constantly called by reporters to give some exclusive insight into their ‘amazing new lifestyle’ or whatever they came up with to mask their undying and prying curiosity.

And there was the pressure to prepare for everything. Thankfully, all of the boys’ mums had taken time off at some time or another to help Zayn and Liam prepare for the new arrival. The two of them had bought a larger flat in the same complex, so everyone had pitched in to help set up the new nursery, which was painted light blue at Liam’s request. But then the worst parts of the preparation were the sleepless nights sitting next to Liam next to the toilet and constantly reading hundreds of parenting books.

But the worst part was, above all, the fact that people would just touch Liam’s stomach like it was their own baby, would smile and ask about the baby like there was nothing wrong with touching a random person’s pregnant stomach. And every time, no matter the venue or importance of the occasion or person, Zayn would stop whatever he was doing and fix that offender with his most deadly glare, and would put his arm around Liam’s shoulders or waist until the uninvited hands were removed. Because nobody, with the exception of the lads, could touch his Liam or their little unborn son. Not on Zayn’s watch. Zayn had made a promise to Liam that first night, and he was determined to keep it.

So that was how he and Liam ended up on the soft couch in their new flat, watching Toy Story 3 after an exhausting day of interviews and shopping. Liam was curled up and had his head resting in Zayn’s lap, his legs going out across the rest of the sofa. Zayn was leaning against the armrest, one hand stroking Liam’s hair and the other resting on Liam’s bulging abdomen. It felt right to Zayn, just the two – well, three – of them in their quiet home, snuggled up under a few blankets that Liam had insisted on buying.

The movie was about halfway through when Liam murmured, “Andy.”

Zayn raised the TV remote and paused the movie, looking fondly down at the sleepy-looking Liam. “What about Andy, babe?” he asked.

Liam grunted slightly with exertion as he turned over on his back, staring up into Zayn’s eyes. “Let’s name him Andy,” he said.

“Andy?” Zayn repeated. “Because of your insane love for Toy Story, is that it?” He grinned. Liam was too cute.

Liam let out a small sound of protest, looking at him with wide innocent brown eyes, like he was a little six-year-old again. “It’s not really a bad name,” he insisted. “A fan tweeted me that I should give him a Toy Story name and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I guess we can consider it,” Zayn told Liam, though he really didn’t think of that as a great name for their son.

“Good.” Liam beamed in satisfaction, and Zayn was about to resume the movie when Liam asked, “Are you chewing your gum?”

The gum he spoke of was Zayn’s nicotine gum, one of the final stages of Zayn’s process of quitting smoking. He’d finally decided to cut his bad habit when he’d read an article about how cigarette smoke could cause birth defects and affect a child’s development in early years. That night, he’d thrown out all but two packs of his cigarettes, declaring that he was quitting. Though shocked, all of the boys and Zayn’s mum had helped wean him off the addictive habit. Though it’d been hard at first, Zayn didn’t regret his decision at all. He didn’t want to let his bad routine jeopardize the health of his family.

He smiled warmly down at Liam. “Yes,” he assured his boyfriend.

“Good,” Liam murmured. “That’s good,” he repeated, eyelids slowly drooping shut. “Good good good.” His head went limp in Zayn’s lap, falling slightly to the side. His breaths evened out and became deeper, slower. Liam was asleep.

Zayn smiled and turned the TV off, reaching over to turn the lap next to the couch off. Then, immersed in darkness, he adjusted slightly on the sofa and leaned over Liam, draping over his boyfriend’s torso as he felt himself drift off to sleep.

Just before the darkness of sleep enveloped him, Zayn smiled dopily as he realized that they were sleeping in the reversed positions of that picture from ages ago during the X Factor days.

And, for some reason, that just seemed beautiful to him.

* * *

Eight months into the pregnancy, Liam was positively huge. At times it seemed odd even to Zayn, looking over at Liam and expecting lean muscle but instead seeing the weight of a child. Louis even had taken to calling the unborn child ‘Marshmallow’ on account of Liam’s roundness. Why he chose the word marshmallow, Zayn never found out. But after a few tweets from Louis about the baby, Zayn and Liam’s son was affectionately referred to as ‘Baby Marshmallow’ by the majority of the fandom.

Liam himself was practically glowing, like all women seemed to when they were pregnant. His smile seemed brighter, and his eyes and skin shone even in near darkness. There were magazine articles dedicated to observing how healthy Liam was; how even his weight gain hadn’t stopped him from being one of the most handsome men in the world along with Zayn. It was late July, and Liam and Zayn had been named as the summer’s hottest couple all over the world. One Direction had become wildly popular, their second album making record sales all over the world. They’d gotten countless awards for their single ‘Live While We’re Young’ and life couldn’t have been better.

On the night of the 20th, all of the boys had been allowed – with a police escort at a discreet distance – to go outside of the complex for a few hours to meet with fans. For once, Zayn’s ears weren’t aching, for the fans were keeping quiet because Liam was suffering from a headache and was a bit tired.

Zayn was occupied with a fan who was showing him her drawings of him, which he complimented and signed, because they really were quite good. The more recent ones had even captured the elegant black lines on his right bicep, the black curves and dips that spelled out ‘Liam’ in spidery script, the stray end of the letter ‘m’ curling around the circumference of his arm to join with the beginning of the ‘L’ on the other side.

Liam was a small distance away, laughing with a few women in their early thirties who were holding small children of their own. And he looked so happy, and Zayn turned back to the fan with an affectionate smile. For some reason, his eyes scanned the milling crowd of waiting fans, and his gaze caught a middle-aged man moving quickly through the crowd. He looked determined, eyebrows set and hand reaching down into the pocket of his hoodie.

“What the– ” Zayn muttered, staring curiously at the man. The he saw what was in the man’s hand.

It happened so quickly, in the span of mere seconds, but to Zayn it was an eternity. He saw, at the last second, the flash of a gun being revealed, and he knew in that moment what was going to happen. He whirled, feeling like he was moving through molasses.

There was Liam, just five feet away, but then the gun was being raised and there was no time for Zayn to think, he just knew that he had to move move move, so he pushed away from the fan and took a leap at Liam. One step. Two. In the span of a heartbeat.

And all he heard was the deafening report of a gun firing, tried to reach out an arm, tried to warn Liam but no words came out.

So then Liam jerked backwards in the most terrible way, crumpling to his knees like a marionette with its strings cut, eyes flying wide with shock and agony as the bullet struck, tearing through flesh and vein and bone. And suddenly there was blood, Liam’s blood, and all Zayn could do was scream, scream because Liam was lying there so vulnerable while Zayn leapt that last step he’d failed to take, falling to his knees and just screaming, because he was pressing his hands to the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood that took Liam’s life with it. The rest of the world was washed out, filled with streaking colors and muted screams. It didn’t matter, though, because then Liam was screaming too and that’s all Zayn heard and he knew that sound would haunt him forever.

Because there was Liam in the most terrible pain, screaming because Zayn broke his promise. And that’s when the tears fell, hot and wet down Zayn’s cheeks while he pressed his hands desperately to that bloody hole in Liam and whispered to Liam that help was coming, that Louis was calling an ambulance.

Because he broke his promise. He let someone hurt Liam; hurt their family.

And the punishment he got was seeing Liam’s eyes roll back in his head as he fell unconscious. Police had grabbed the gunman by then, and Zayn grabbed Harry and forced his hands down onto Liam’s wound, telling him to hold and press until help came. Harry tried to protest, but Zayn silenced him with a deadly stare and got up, running to where the man with the gun stood, being roughly handcuffed. Zayn strode to him, feeling Liam’s blood warm and sticky and dripping off his fingers. The man looked up with a crooked grin when he saw Zayn. He spat at Zayn’s feet. “That’s what you get, you and your sick faggot boyfriend,” he cackled.

Zayn swung a fist, putting all of his fury into the swing as he socked the man right in the jaw, then again, and again, ignoring the ache in his knuckles because it felt so good to see the man scream while his jaw broke. Zayn grinned wickedly when Niall ran up and pulled him away, because he knew Liam had been behind those punches, because it was Liam that stained Zayn’s fingers.

Liam.

His vengeance served, the only purpose left in Zayn was Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam –

He ran back, pushed Harry roughly away, and took up his place with his hand on the wound on Liam’s stomach, pressing his hands to the bloody skin and screaming at Louis, asking him when the fuck help was coming because Liam was dying here.

The EMTs rushed in seconds later, dragging Zayn off of Liam and cutting the bloody plaid shirt open, revealing the blood-soaked flesh and that terrible ragged hole. “What’s his name?” one EMT demanded.

“Liam…he’s Liam!” Zayn shouted, holding onto Liam’s hand while the paramedics raised his limp body onto a stretcher that they wheeled into the ambulance. “Please, let us stay in the ambulance with him,” Zayn begged, gesturing to Louis, Harry, and Niall.

The EMT glanced at them and at Zayn’s pleading face. “One,” he reluctantly agreed.

Zayn glanced back and the boys nearly shoved him into the ambulance. “Don’t let him die, Malik,” Niall snarled. “Not him or the kid.”

Zayn nodded numbly. “Never,” he swore like he had to Liam that night

sorry liam so sorry

and closed the door to the ambulance. He turned back to the paramedics who were packing Liam’s stomach with gauze. The EMT looked over at Zayn and said, “Might as well make yourself useful. How old is he?”

Zayn squeezed Liam’s limp hand. “Nineteen.”

just nineteen years old, don’t die liam

“And do you know his blood type?” the EMT asked, hooking Liam up to a machine that blipped with Liam’s vital signs.

“He’s AB negative,” Zayn stuttered, thankful that the doctors had to take Liam’s blood during the pregnancy.

they need your blood type please forgive me liam

The other paramedic felt Liam’s stomach carefully. “Is he…pregnant?!” he asked incredulously.

Zayn resisted the urge to roll his eyes, despite the fact that Liam was gushing blood all over the gurney right then

oh god don’t die

and replied, “Yes.” Obviously this man had been living under some crazy rock to work at the hospital and not know about Liam.

The EMT shook his head. “This is not good. The bullet may have hit the baby.”

Zayn felt his stomach lurch. The paramedic seemed to catch on and grabbed a bucket from under the seat, passing it to Zayn just in time for him to vomit from the sheer terror and shock. Zayn shook his head, hunched over the bucket and staring at Liam, Liam who lay so still on the gurney, with his pregnant belly rising from his immobile body like a mountain in the middle of a wasteland, life and structure defying the odds. “No,” Zayn moaned, rocking back and forth on the seat of the ambulance. “Not both of them. They can’t take them from me.”

The paramedics glanced sympathetically at him. “Don’t worry,” one of them soothed. “Right now Liam’s condition is relatively stable, so we can only hope that lasts.”

Hope. Zayn began to cry again, those huge wracking sobs that tore at his throat and punched his chest. Because they could only hope that Liam would survive along with their son. Their son, who hadn’t seen the light of day. It was too early for them to go. Too early

liam please be okay

for Liam and especially their child who Zayn had only seen on the screen of an ultrasound. They couldn’t die. “Don’t let them die,” he choked out. “Don’t…just don’t. Please. They’ll never forgive me, I fucking promised him that I wouldn’t let anyone touch him! I PROMISED!” he screamed, looking wildly at the paramedics.

“It’ll be okay,” the paramedic assured him. “We’re almost to the hospital and I’ve radioed in that we’re coming. There’s a fully equipped team of the best medical professionals in London waiting to help Liam and the baby. Okay?”

Zayn just nodded. He couldn’t catch his breath, didn’t really want to, because what was the use of breathing if Liam was dying?

take me instead i’ll do anything just don’t take liam

The ambulance screeched to a halt and suddenly the doors of the vehicle were being thrown open, and all of the bright white lights assaulted Zayn’s eyes, blinding him. There were people in white lab coats and blue scrubs and, yes, there was Dr. Frasier, helping load Liam’s blood-soaked gurney out of the ambulance. Zayn leaped out too, trying to get as close to Lam as possible, but there was always a body in the way, a doctor with a probe or medication.

“Zayn!” a blissfully familiar voice called, and Zayn turned to see Niall and Harry and Louis bounding out of the One Direction van. Niall ran to him and Zayn just collapsed into him because he couldn’t bear to stand anymore. “What happened, Zayn?” Niall demanded, his accent strong and raw with tears.

It took a moment for Zayn to process that Niall had asked him a question. He looked numbly up at the frightened faces of his brothers. “Might’ve hit the baby,” he mumbled. “Liam.”

He felt and heard Niall’s sharp intake of breath, but he just buried his face in his hands, forgetting for a moment that his hands were covered in Liam’s wet red blood, still warm on his fingers. He felt Harry rubbing his back as he retched on the black tarmac of the ambulance bay, resolving to just cough and hack out massive dry sobs when nothing came up.

“We need an emergency C-section!” That was Dr. Frasier’s voice, the voice that was usually so calm and cheerful. Now, however, it was assertive and worried.

Zayn burst out of his friends’ grasp and grabbed Dr. Frasier’s arm. “But it’s only been eight months!” he protested frantically. “You can’t—”

“I can,” Dr. Frasier interrupted firmly. “We need to remove the bullet and keeping the baby inside any longer would only risk both of their lives.” He turned away from Zayn and ordered a nurse, “Ready an OR for surgery. Have the NICU bring an incubator and materials to clean the baby once we deliver it.” He turned back to Zayn briefly. “I’m sorry, son,” he said sincerely. “But you’ll have to wait in the ICU while we do the surgery.” He called another nurse over. “Bring these boys to an empty room and ready some beds for them.” Then he was gone, firmly grabbing Liam’s gurney and wheeling it into the hospital.

“LIAM!” Zayn screamed, trying to lunge after the disappearing form of the only two reasons that he had to live. But Niall and Harry and Louis were there, holding him back. “Let me go!” he roared, struggling against them. “Liam needs me!”

“No, Zayn, what he needs right now is for you to remain calm!” Harry screamed right back in his face. “You’re not doing him any good by chasing him around!”

Zayn slumped, defeated. “Just need to lay down,” he whimpered.

“Right this way, if you please,” a kind-faced nurse piped up, looking worried. She lightly touched Zayn’s arm and guided him into the hospital, with Louis being the only thing keeping Zayn’s legs from buckling. She led them into a quiet, dimly lit room with two large white cots sitting in the corner. “The surgery will take a while,” the nurse explained. “Get some rest. I promise I’ll wake you up as soon as we have Liam in a room of his own.

“Thank you,” Harry said gratefully. “What’s your name so we can call if there’s a problem?”

The nurse smiled warmly at them. “Irene,” she answered. She left the room and quietly closed the door behind herself.

Zayn looked over at his friends and realized that they were crying too, eyes red and swollen and tears streaming down their cheeks. “I…I think we need a hug,” Zayn muttered. He found himself immediately wrapped in the tight embrace of his three closest friends, all of them finally breaking down completely.

“I always had a feeling that one of us would eventually” – Harry broke off, choking on tears – “get…get hurt, but why’d it have to be Liam, why’d it have to be now?”

“It’s my fault,” Zayn whispered, shoulders heaving with the effort of crying. “I promised him! I promised that I’d keep him safe!”

Niall’s grip tightened around his shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Zayn,” the Irishman said fiercely. “You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t have stopped that man from shooting Liam.”

“But—” Zayn protested, but Louis and Harry shushed him.

“You need rest,” Louis told Zayn. “We all do. We won’t be any good to Liam if we’re dead on our feet.”

The three boys pushed Zayn over to one of the cots. “Sleep,” they insisted.

Zayn stated to climb into the bed, but he stopped and pushed the cot over so that it was shoved against the other one, pressing the second bed against the wall. “let’s share,” he invited, looking imploringly over at Harry, Louis, and Niall.

The other three all smiled weakly and clambered into the shared bed, with Niall pressed against the wall, Zayn next to him, and Harry and Louis on his other side. The all lay there, pushed up against each other, tears wetting each other’s shirts, their choked sniffs and strangled gulps breaking the silence but drawing them closer to each other. Zayn felt safe between his best-friends-turned-brothers. Gradually, he felt his wracking sobs subside into pathetic little whimpers, lulling him to sleep with his friends to keep him safe.

That night, Zayn’s dreams were filled with blood. Time and time again, he watched as he was just a second too late; saw that awful crumpling motion as Liam fell. He saw Liam’s brown eyes burning with the agony of being shot. Zayn felt it all again, felt Liam’s blood hot and wet between his fingers as he struggled to keep the life from flowing out of his lover’s body.

Liam’s scream, that anguished scream, echoed over and over in his head, pounding through him like it was part of his soul now, a ghost of the past coming back to haunt him. Zayn fell to his knees in the growing pool of Liam’s blood, covering his ears while the agonized sounds of his boyfriend washed over him, getting louder and louder.

“Zayn!”

Zayn woke up with a start, soaked in a cold sweat. His eyes flew open to reveal Niall, bending over him with an anxious expression. “What – what, Niall?” he stammered, heart still hammering away.

Niall’s eyebrows were creased in concern. “You were screaming, mate,” he told Zayn.

Zayn sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “What time is it?” he asked Niall.

Niall looked over Zayn’s shoulder and sighed. “Three AM,” he told Zayn quietly. “Haz and Lou are still asleep. I couldn’t sleep.” He looked incredibly old to Zayn right then, the shadows catching all the angles in his face and casting gray over the dark purple circles under his tired blue eyes.

“Any news on Liam or…the baby?” Zayn swallowed nervously. They had to be alright, they both had to be okay, or else Zayn would be alone, so alone.

“The doctor came in a little while ago. He said the surgery went okay.”

“Okay? Just okay?” Zayn asked, feeling the worry bloom inside him.

Niall fidgeted nervously. “The bullet hit one of the major arteries in Liam’s abdomen. There was internal bleeding which lowered his blood pressure so then Liam went into cardiac arrest.”

“WHAT?!” Zayn screamed, feeling his heart burst and nearly stop. Liam’s heart had stopped, Liam had died, what had happened to his Liam? “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he moaned incessantly, drawing his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth, back and forth, feeling empty.

“Zayn! Zayn, don’t worry!” Niall yelled, grabbing Zayn’s shoulders and shaking them frantically. “They brought him back; he’s alive! They fixed him up, and they got the baby out just fine. Liam is still unconscious right now, but he’s stable and so is the baby.”

“They’re alright?” Zayn whispered. “Both of them?”

Niall grinned in relief. “Yes, Zayn,” he insisted gently. “They’re both just fine.”

Zayn leaped off of the cot in elation, sitting down on the floor because his legs were buckling with relief. Liam was okay. Their son was alive. Everything would be okay. “Oh, thank god,” he whispered. “Thank god.” He looked up at Niall. “Can I go see him?’

Niall nodded, but then added, “I’d shower off first. There are towels in the bathroom and Paul brought some new clothes for you.”

“Don’t know why I have to shower to go see my boyfriend,” Zayn muttered, but he went into the adjoining bathroom anyway. He turned on the light and closed the door behind himself, locking the knob. He glanced absently in the mirror and stopped short. “Oh,” he whispered.

His face was streaked with red bands of dried blood, smeared across his cheeks and forehead. Zayn looked down and saw that his hands and forearms were stained dark red, and there was a splatter of blood all over his T-shirt too. Liam’s blood, a reminder of the previous night.

Zayn shivered as he remembered trying to stem the flow of blood. He quickly stripped out of his stained clothing and turned the shower on, stepping into the blissfully warm water. He looked disdainfully at the tiny travel-sized shampoos that Paul had apparently brought from their hotel back in New York, but decided it was better to have regularly cleaned hair than bloodstained hair and soaped up.

He used the washcloth to scrub viciously at his skin, partly to remove Liam’s blood and partly to give himself enough pain to punish himself for letting Liam down. It felt good, watching his fears drain away along with the flaked-away blood.

When he came out of the bathroom in a soft black T-shirt and worn jeans, Louis and Harry were awake, talking quietly with Niall and Dr. Frasier. Zayn hurried over. “Doctor Frasier!” he exclaimed in relief. “How are they?”

The doctor smiled at him, looking weary and time-worn. “The surgery was hard, Zayn, but it was a success. The bullet was removed, Liam got patched up, and now your son is doing well in the NICU.”

“So Liam’s going to be alright? He’ll wake up soon?” Zayn asked excitedly.

Dr. Frasier paused then. His cheerful face fell slightly. “I don’t know about that, Zayn,” he said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“He’s in intensive care, Zayn. When he went into cardiac arrest, his brain was starved of oxygen for a period of time, and his organs shut down temporarily while we worked to revive him. There may be a chance that he won’t wake up.”

Zayn stepped right up into the face of Doctor Frasier, feeling the world drop down around him. “What do you mean, he might not wake up?” he demanded, so livid that he spoke with a deadly calm, each word being spit out like it was poison.

“His brain might be permanently damaged. It may not. Only time will tell.” The doctor shrugged, his eyes pitying.

Zayn ran his hands through his hair. It was almost as if the words didn’t surprise him, it was just so unreal that any news seemed like it was just part of the plan. But inside he knew that he was falling apart. “And our son?” he asked, feeling the shake in his voice.

The doctor allowed himself a small, relieved smile. “Right now, Liam is being attended to by the nurses, so you have the opportunity to visit your son. Would you like to?”

“Yes,” Zayn immediately pounced on the offer, desperate to have some sort of closure, some sort of proof that all of these eight months hadn’t been totally pointless, that Liam hadn’t been put in a coma for nothing. “Please,” he begged.

Dr. Frasier smiled and put an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “You’ll need to wear protective scrubs, a mask, and gloves, because his immune system is very fragile right now. But I’ll take you down.”

Zayn couldn’t have gotten into the scrubs fast enough. He washed up quickly, letting a nurse help him flatten his hair into the scrub cap provided. He knew that Niall, Harry, and Louis would be coming soon to come visit as well, but they were giving him some time alone with his son first. Zayn hurried to the door to the main area of the NICU. “Ready,” he breathlessly told Dr. Frasier, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

The doctor put a finger to his lips. “You have to keep your voice down,” he informed Zayn quietly, and Zayn nodded in understanding. The doctor pushed the swinging door open and ushered Zayn into the hushed room that was dimly lit and hummed with the sound of monitors. Doctor Frasier led Zayn down the central aisle, past quiet nurses and nervous-looking parents. At the end of the aisle, the doctor turned to the right and walked to the back corner of the room, which was secluded, quiet, and warm. He stopped next to the final plastic-walled crib. “Here he is,” he told Zayn with a soft smile.

The first thing Zayn saw was the familiar black-lettered label. MALIK-PAYNE BABY BOY. It was neatly taped on the plastic wall of the crib, and Zayn took a step forward, peering nervously over the edge into the crib.

There he was.

There he was, looking too small for the little crib, eyes skewed shut in slumber. There he was, the proof of Zayn and Liam’s love. There he was, the boy that already had a few wispy strands of jet-black hair.

There he was.

There was his son.

Zayn felt the oh-so-familiar rush of emotion, the growing lump in his throat. He stared down at his son, wishing with all his heart that Liam could have been there to see it. “He…he’s beautiful,” he choked out, struggling to draw air.

“Yes, he’s healthy and doing well,” Dr. Frasier told him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t be shy. You can touch him if you’re gentle.”

“I can touch him?” Zayn asked in disbelief. This child looked so fragile, so breakable. And everything he touched…broke. Like Liam.

“Of course,” the doctor chuckled. “He’s a human being.”

Zayn tentatively reached into the crib and placed his finger gently on the diminutive chest, running the finger across the left side and feeling the quick heartbeat, proof that this miracle was not a doll but a living, breathing baby. This was Liam’s child, and his. He traversed his finger down the baby’s left arm, moving down to the hand, where miniscule fingers flexed at the touch. Zayn gasped as his son’s tiny fingers attempted to close around his finger, clinging at the finger like it was a massive accomplishment. “Oh my god,” Zayn whispered around the knot in his throat. “It’s just like the movies.”

“That’s the first time he’s done that,” Dr. Frasier murmured, sounding delighted. “He’s connecting already!”

Zayn swallowed back tears at that. “Liam,” he murmured, so quietly that the doctor didn’t hear him. “You’d love this.”

He carefully extricated his finger from his son’s grasp and turned to Dr. Frasier. “What about Liam?” he asked.

“We can go see him now,” the doctor told him. “Your friends are waiting to come see your son so we should go.” He led Zayn back down the warm corridor flanked by cribs and back into the room where Zayn peeled off his scrubs and was met by the sight of Harry, Louis, and Niall waiting patiently.

“How is it?” Louis asked.

“Amazing,” Zayn whispered, wiping a stray tear from his cheekbone. “He’s beautiful.”

Niall patted him on the arm when he passed to go into the NICU. “Take your time with Liam, mate,” he encouraged Zayn. “This kid needs to get to know his favorite uncles.”

Zayn managed to put a smile on his word-weary lips. “Thanks, Niall,” he rasped. He ripped the scrub cap off of his head and threw it away, waving as Niall disappeared into the NICU. A nurse stood by the door to the main hospital, holding it open for Zayn. She took him to the other side of the ICU, where Liam’s room supposedly was. She stopped by the door and smiled.

“Just stay quiet while you’re in there. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” Zayn said appreciatively, still feeling his hands shaking from the overwhelming sensation of meeting his son. He put his hand on the handle, feeling the cold metal in his hand for a moment before pushing the door inward.

Liam.

There was Liam, with his eyes shut peacefully, Liam with an IV in his hand, Liam looking stunningly beautiful but covered in bruises from the hands of rushing doctors. There was Zayn’s Liam, the gorgeous creature that lay immobile, the only sign that he was alive being the constant, steady beat of the heart monitor.

There was Liam, who might not wake up again.

Zayn stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the bed, grabbing Liam’s hand that wasn’t injected with an IV and burying his face in the mattress. “Li,” he sobbed. “Oh, god, Liam.”

But Liam didn’t reply.

Honestly, Zayn didn’t expect him to. But it was still ridiculously painful when the only response he got was the unchanging line moving up and down on the heart monitor, the only indication that Liam was alive. “I’m so sorry, Li,” Zayn whimpered into the soft white sheets. “I’m so sorry this had to happen. Just wake up, Liam. Please.”

Silence.

Zayn got up off his knees and pulled up the green armchair that sat by the wall. He collapsed into it and leaned forward again, taking Liam’s warm, limp hand in his again. He raised it to his lips, kissing the soft fingers. “I miss you,” he told Liam, ignoring the tears that streamed down his face. “I love you and I can’t be without you need I need you to wake up, Liam.” He ran a hand through Liam’s now-scruffy sandy brown locks, wishing that Liam would smile and lean into the touch like he used to.

They stayed like that for God knew how long, Zayn staring at Liam and Liam lying motionlessly on the bed, looking like he was just sleeping. Zayn didn’t want to close his own eyes for fear that if he took his eyes off of Liam for even a second, something bad might happen and Liam might not wake up.

It was probably about 7 in the morning on the 21st when Zayn cleared his throat and squeezed Liam’s hand.

“He has a little birthmark on his collarbone, you know. And he’s pretty healthy for a premature birth. He’s already got this tufty little patch of black hair, like mine, but I think that he’s going to have your eyes. And he held my finger, Liam. He grabbed it like in the films, and he’s just perfect. Haz, Lou, and Niall are with him right now, but I’ll tell you more about him later.” Zayn swallowed, biting his lip. “He’s a fighter, Liam. He was born so young but already he’s got all the determination that you’ve ever had. And I need you to fight too, Liam. I need you to fight and wake up.”

He sniffed, rubbing his thumb across the back of Liam’s hand. “I need you to wake up, Liam. I really do. I wouldn’t be able to go on without you. Without you smiling at me when we get up every morning, without you kissing me goodnight. I can’t live a day without your warm arms around me, because you’re all that I know to be safe. You’re perfect, Liam. God can’t kill you just yet.”

He wiped the back of his other hand across his cheek to wipe away some of the tears there. “I can’t wait for you to wake up so we can be a proper family. Just…please.”

He continued to murmur unintelligibly to Liam, just talking, not about any particular thing, but each minute with Liam was filled with I love you and you’re perfect and don’t leave me and please.

Louis, Niall, and Harry turned away from the door of the hospital room, leaving Zayn to be with the one thing that he would die without.

* * *

Harry was worried. Harry was very worried.

It’d been a week and a half since Liam had been admitted to the hospital. In that time, they’d celebrated the third year of One Direction in a silent hospital room, not even bothering to acknowledge the day. Zayn and Liam’s son had, upon Zayn’s constant request, had his crib moved to Liam’s room so that Zayn wouldn’t have to leave Liam to go see the baby.

And it really ticked Harry off that the baby was only known as ‘the baby’. Zayn had been refusing to name him, insisting that he’d do it when Liam woke up so they could decide together.

Harry didn’t want to crush Zayn and tell him that it was if Liam woke up.

And, of course, Zayn was always worried that if he left the room or got distracted, he would miss something, so he didn’t sleep. He didn’t shower. And if he ever did get some food, it was because the doctors threatened to kick him out if he didn’t get some food in his system. It was day in, day out, watching Zayn slowly digress into some sort of shadow of himself, with thick dark stubble and hair that hung into his eyes. His eyes were sunken, and his face was already thinning out and looking gaunt. He sat in the armchair that had almost become his home, only getting up to go to his son’s crib. And he didn’t even do that all that much anymore. All he did was sit next to Liam, mumble to himself, and scribble in that notebook of his.

Harry knew what it meant.

Zayn was giving up.

He looked down at the papers in his hands, then back up at the doctor. “So you’ll back me up when he refuses?” he asked.

Doctor Frasier nodded. “It’s unhealthy, the way he’s carrying on. He believes that Liam is going to wake up any second now, so that’s all he’s waiting for. He’s setting himself up for a big shock, and we need to get him out of that mindset and shake some reality into him.”

Harry shook his head. “He’s not Zayn anymore,” he muttered. This couldn’t be his friend. No, Zayn would be the one to be emotional and have deep heart-to-hearts with the boys to cope. This Zayn was the one that pushed everybody else away to the point that Louis and Niall only came around when Zayn was in one of his exhausted, halfway charitable moods. Harry was the only one who stuck around. “Let’s go,” he muttered, and pushed his way into Liam’s hospital room.

Zayn looked up with a scowl on his face, eyes wide and bloodshot. “What?” he snapped.

“Zayn, man, it’s gone on too long,” Harry began. “If you don’t do this now, then the birth certificate will be finalized and your son will just be known as Malik-Payne Baby Boy. Is that really what you want?”

“But Liam’s going to wake up soon,” Zayn insisted. “He’s going to wake up and we’ll name him together.”

Harry shook his head and took a seat on the edge of Zayn’s armchair. “But Zayn, man, you have to realize that there’s a chance that Liam might not wake up. There’s a chance that his systems took too much damage and he won’t recover. So are you really going to jeopardize the name of your fucking son, the one that Liam is suffering for, just because you’re holding onto empty hopes?”

Zayn blinked and looked up sharply at Harry. “No,” he growled vehemently. “Liam is going to wake up. He will not die.”

“Zayn!” Harry shouted into his friend’s face, leaning into it. “Liam. Might. Die. So name your son and then you can continue hoping that maybe your boyfriend will wake up if you wish hard enough. Is it really that hard to grasp? He could die. It’s a very real possibility. So get that into your head.”

“He could die,” Zayn muttered dazedly, the anger gone from his eyes. “Liam could die.”

“Yes,” Harry pressed gently, exasperatedly. “But if he does wake up, don’t you want to surprise him with the nice name you’ve picked out?” He felt bad to be taking advantage of the dazed and exhausted state that Zayn was in, but the baby was the priority and he had to set his friend straight, no matter how painful the truth was. He shoved the papers into Zayn’s hands. “Now you name your son something Liam would be proud of.”

Zayn stared dumbly down at the pen and certificates in his hands, running a finger over the black ink that showed his son’s miniscule footprints. As Harry watched, Zayn’s pointer finger traced four letters across the footprint, and his sunken eyes got a mischievous, albeit wistful, glow. The Bradford boy, only twenty years old, but already so burdened with responsibility, scribbled down the name of his newborn son with sure, spidery letters. He handed the papers back to Harry forcefully. “Take them and get out,” he whispered.

As Harry stepped out of the room, he heard Zayn break down into sobs again.

* * *

Day 14.

Two weeks.

Zayn sat listlessly in that armchair that was his home, looking at Liam’s pronounced cheekbones, the emaciated lines from disuse and lack of proper nourishment. The brown-haired boy’s eyelashes brushed his cheeks in a permanent look of shyness, lips just barely ghosting with a smile. His hair fell limp and undisturbed on his forehead, no longer brushed to shining perfection.

And Zayn couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, or eaten for that matter. The last time he’d fallen asleep, he’d woken up with a nurse trying to attach him to an IV that gave him some sort of nourishment. But he didn’t eat if Liam didn’t eat. He couldn’t. All of his attentions were devoted to either Liam or their son.

He glanced up when the door to the hospital room clicked open. Louis walked in, immediately followed by Harry and Niall. They looked so worried, so sad. Zayn saw the way that Niall’s blue eyes softened and he bit his lip when his eyes fell on Liam.

“Hey,” Zayn said quietly to his friends, at first even letting himself grin a bit. But then he caught sight of the small bag of Chinese takeout in Harry’s hand and scowled. “I told you I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not sane, that’s what you’re not,” Louis muttered, shoving the bag into Zayn’s lap. “Now you’re going to sit here and eat at least one egg roll or I will make sure that we get a huge male nurse to wrangle you out of this room until you do.”

Zayn glared at the oldest boy and snatched the bag, taking a bite out of one of the egg rolls and trying not to admit just how delicious it actually was. He finished it quickly, attempting to not scarf it down even though his stomach begged for more. “Happy?” he asked his bandmates, who frowned in unison but still had semi-satisfied expressions nonetheless.

“You’ve got a problem, mate,” Niall announced, taking a seat in one of the soft chairs between Liam’s bed and the baby’s crib. “You’re wearing yourself out, and that’s not going to do any good for anybody.”

“I’m staying with him,” Zayn insisted with a growl, crossing his arms. “He needs me.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Well sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Liam probably isn’t waking up any time soon, and you need you right now. He needs you right now!” He thrust a finger at the crib in the corner. “Honestly, when was the last time you held him?”

“For that matter, when was the last time you even got up to look at him?” Harry asked, sounding mildly disgusted with Zayn.

Zayn looked at his hands.

Harry stalked over to the crib and, murmuring nonsensical into the soft, downy head of the baby, lifted Zayn’s son up. He bounced the infant in his arms, glaring at Zayn over the head of the cooing baby. “This should be you,” he muttered, putting his finger into the baby’s insistent grasp, chuckling when the boy squealed.

Zayn, for the first time in at least two days, stood up and walked over to Harry, trying to ignore how tired he was. He reached out his arms to his friend. “May I?” he asked quietly, a gesture of submission and shame. He heard Louis’s satisfied snort from behind him.

The curly-haired lad grinned and carefully extended his own arms, passing the dark-haired infant into Zayn’s waiting hands.

Zayn smiled when his son opened his eyes, the unfocused chocolaty orbs that blinked up at him so innocently, devoid of any resentment for how much of a rubbish father Zayn had been in his son’s short life. Zayn glanced up at his friends. “Thanks for making me come to my senses,” he said sincerely. “I’ve been an ignorant, stupid asshole.”

“Watch the cursing around the kid,” Niall ordered, ruffling Zayn’s hair before he walked to the door, Harry and Louis in tow. He looked back with soft blue-gray eyes at the still, sleeping Liam. “Just take care of yourselves,” he told Zayn quietly. “We’ve got to go to a press conference, but keep us posted.”

Zayn nodded and grinned at his friends for what seemed like the first time in ages. “Thanks, boys.”

“Anytime.” Harry smiled and was gone, closing the door behind himself.

Sighing, Zayn looked from Liam’s immobile body to his son’s curious brown eyes. “And then there were three,” he muttered. “Or one, since I can’t hold a decent conversation with either of you.”

Liam remained impassive. His son cooed, waving a tiny fist in the air.

Zayn swallowed. “So, Liam. This is such a weird time right now. I’ve been neglecting myself for weeks because I keep thinking that you’re going to wake up any minute but you never do.” He ran a thumb across the downy back of his son’s head. “I miss you. And I bet he misses you too, because what son of ours wouldn’t?” He chuckled to himself, gazing over at Liam’s impassive face, his closed eyelids and smooth lips.

“It’s hard, Liam, being without you. And you’re missing out on so many things. He’s already opened his eyes, and they’re so much like yours, dark chocolate brown and I swear even his crying sounds like you. And we weighed him and he’s at a little over five pounds, which is pretty good considering that he’s a preemie. I can’t wait for you to see him.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face and bouncing his other arm slightly when his son started to sniffle and cry a bit, shushing the child softly. “And you know, Liam, I need you to wake up. We all do. I need you. I love you.” He looked down at the baby in his arms, smiling fondly but still feeling half empty without Liam there. “And now that we have a son, I need you now more than ever.”

He looked desperately to the heart monitor, mentally begging for something, anything, to tell him that he wasn’t just talking to thin air.

But the monitor remained passive, only registering a constant up-down, up-down of Liam’s heartbeat.

So Zayn sighed and curled up in the armchair, holding his son to his chest as he closed his eyes.

* * *

“And you know, Liam, I need you to wake up. We all do. I need you. I love you.”

Was that…did Liam know that voice? It swam through the black haze that whispered to him to sleep, to submit; to succumb, breaking the monotony of orders to sleep with a plea to wake.

It sounded like the sun rising over the ocean, strong and sweet and welcome in the overwhelming blackness. It softened consonants and blurred together slightly, an accent that Liam should have been able to place but couldn’t.

And he knew that there was something he was missing, a piece that wouldn’t fit because the angles were all wrong and if he just thought –

Zin? Zuan? Zee…?

No, Liam knew it, he did. He was close, could tell that the name danced on the edges of his mind, taunting him because he couldn’t reach it, not now. He was just so tired.

And then there was clarity, a sudden blinding flash that let Liam see sly amber eyes, slicked dark hair, and a smile that parted lips that Liam was dying to kiss because it was so familiar, if only he could just remember who it was.

Zayn.

Liam, for the first time in over two weeks, felt his heart flutter.

He had to get back to Zayn, because he remembered everything now, remembered the smile that Zayn gave him, remembered the son that was theirs, remembered the bullet hitting him in the stomach.

“I need you now more than ever,” Zayn’s voice whispered, clearer now and Liam wished that he could just open his eyes, but it felt like there were two-ton weights on his eyelids.

He wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. The darkness rose up again.

He fell asleep.

* * *

The lights were back again, in force against the blackness. What had he been thinking? What had been so important just minutes ago?

Liam racked his sleep-bedraggled mind, trying to come up with the name that sent warmth through his mind and reminded him of the pain in his stomach. A name, a name that sent his mind reeling and brought him back, had brought him back before.

“Zayn.”

It felt like a million pieces of sandpaper grating on his throat, felt like it took a million years to just gather enough energy to breathe it out, no more than a whisper that would only have been audible if one stood quite close. But it was speech, speech for the first time in what was surely millennia, because Liam had been sleeping for so long, and he was so tired–

He chastised himself in his mind, told himself that there had to be something waiting for him if he could just open his eyes. He’d come so far, had pulled himself out of the agony that was unconsciousness, that was living without the smell of Zayn, cinnamon and cologne.

For Zayn, he told himself.

He pulled at his eyelids with newfound determination, cracking open lids to flinch at the light that met him, unlike the bright awareness that had lit the darkness in his mind. No, this was actual light, light for the first time in ages.

The next lid opened, and Liam Payne was awake.

He ticked his eyes to the left, registering a curtained window plastered with colorful cards and a high-tech crib next to it. A crib for a baby.

Liam’s heart skipped a beat, already racing from the adrenaline of wakefulness. He cast his eyes around again, this time to his right, finding a dazed-looking, half-asleep Zayn slumped in an armchair, an infant asleep on his chest. He wished he could jump up right then, jump and kiss every inch of this man that used to be the bad boy, the man who now was holding this child like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Zayn,” he murmured, stronger this time, feeling his body protesting every movement but ignoring the pain.

Zayn’s head jolted upward; sunken, shocked eyes bored into Liam’s. Despite looking like he hadn’t slept for a week, he was still beautiful, lips slowly separating into a look of wonder. “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he whispered, shock and tears clogging his throat and cracking his voice.

Liam gathered all of his strength and pulled his lips up in a weak smile.

Zayn’s eyes were wet, rimmed by purple. “Liam?” he breathed, more like a prayer than a question, like a plea that he wasn’t dreaming.

Liam crinkled his eyes up. “Morning, sunshine.”

* * *

“Andrew James Malik-Payne, you get your ass in here right now,” Zayn growled. “There’s only a few days till you get married and I’ll be damned if you don’t spend at least one with your parents.”

Andy walked into their movie room with a sigh, running a hand through his gelled-back black hair. He sat down in the seat that Zayn pointed to between his two fathers, and looked up at the screen. “Well?” he asked, looking from Liam to Zayn and back again.

Liam raised a remote and pointed it at the screen. “This is a montage of the best home videos that we’d like to share with you. Some are from before you were born and some are after. All the same, they’re all the parts that make up your story.” He clicked PLAY on the remote and the screen flickered to life, showing five young boys, none of them looking any older than eighteen, standing in front of a man and woman in a tropical-looking setting.

“I’ve gone with my heart. You’re through,” a stern-looking man with dark hair told the boys with a slight smile.

The boys immediately yelled in excitement and started hugging each other. The camera zoomed in on the first two boys, the one with short black hair and the lanky one with a sweeping, shaggy pale brown cut. The one with the long hair had his face buried in the other boy’s neck.

“That’s you and Dad?” Andy breathed in disbelief, barely able to believe that his sensible father had ever had such a long and rebellious-looking hairstyle.

“After our first performance as One Direction,” Liam breathed wistfully, eyes already going slightly glazed with tears.

The same five boys walked along a beach, singing along to a catchy tune in the background. Liam’s hair was curly and his face looked young and mischievous; Zayn seemed more mature, already taking the initiative to walk beside Liam in the sand.

“Our first single, the one that made us famous,” Zayn explained. “This next video takes it forward a bit.”

Zayn and Liam were together in a shot that looked grainy and shaky, like it had been taken from someone’s personal camera. Liam, with short hair this time, was tapping away a catchy tune on a shiny baby grand piano, the notes sweet and precise.

“Aw, Leeyum,” came a voice from slightly off-screen, and Zayn came into view more fully, coming up behind Liam and reaching around his body to tap the keys on his own, doing a childish rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Liam looked over his shoulder and smiled, his eyes boring into Zayn’s with intensity. “Good job, Zayn,” he whispered, and Zayn dipped his head forward suddenly and kissed Liam on the lips. They stayed like that for a few long, drawn out moments.

The camera shook slightly. “What the hell?!” the recorder asked incredulously, and Zayn and Liam broke apart sheepishly.

“Was that Uncle Louis recording?” Andy asked knowingly.

“And he happened to capture our first real kiss,” Zayn replied.

Several other clips of such small little affectionate gestures flashed up on the screen, with Zayn kissing Liam on the cheek in official videos and Liam taking Zayn backstage during a concert. The two sang to each other and playfully touched each other’s cheeks. Then a new video came up, of grainy quality.

There was a commotion in the back of the talk show’s studio set, and suddenly none other than a shirtless Zayn Malik burst into view, effortlessly cradling Liam in his arms. The younger boy was moaning in agony and had Zayn’s shirt tied around his eyes. “Call an ambulance!” Zayn yelled.

Harry Styles whipped out his phone and quickly dialed the numbers, raising the phone to his ear. “Hello? Is this 911? Yes? Okay, we need an ambulance down at the studio where they film Live! With Kelly…yeah? You know the show? Well that’s fucking great, but get an ambulance down here because it looks like my bandmate is about to DIE here!” There was a pause. And then he continued, outraged, “YES, IT’S A BLOODY EMERGENCY! AND YES, YOU WILL COME DOWN HERE AS SOON AS BLOODY POSSIBLE, YOU STUPID AMERICAN! JUST GET AN AMBULANCE NOW!”

Soon after, paramedics arrived and took Liam away, with Zayn trailing after frantically.

Zayn sighed. “That’s when the first symptoms of the pregnancy emerged.”

“A real joy, that was,” Liam muttered, and Andy laughed.

The next shot showed One Direction on a couch in some hotel room. Liam gave a wave to the camera. “Hi, guys!” he called cheerily. “So I know I gave you a right scare when I had to go to the hospital two days ago. But I guess I’m thankful that Zayn was there to carry me out. And we” – he gestured to the rest of the lads on the couch – “feel that you, as the fans, should know why I was so sick like that so suddenly.” Liam swallowed and averted his eyes from the camera, looking at Zayn, who nodded solemnly. On his left, Louis nudged his knee. Liam looked back at the camera. “You see, when I was born, it was with a rare genetic mutation called the Brochten mutation. It creates an extra organ that is useless most of the time, except for a small period of days each month or so. During that period, it’s possible for me to…” Liam trailed off, biting his lip, but Zayn slung an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. Liam raised his gaze again, and bluntly stated, “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and I’m gay and Zayn is the father of our child.” He purposefully reached over and took Zayn’s hand firmly in his own.

“The announcement,” Zayn whispered.

Andy couldn’t help but glance curiously at Liam’s abdomen in that shot. It was still flat and obscured by a shirt, so Andy guessed that it hadn’t been much longer after Liam’s symptoms emerged.

The next video was an ultrasound, showing a tiny white blob moving around while two beats, one strong and steady and the other hurried and light, filled the theater. Andy looked in awe at the screen, realizing that it was him on that screen, tiny and with an indistinct shape.

He felt Liam and Zayn grab each of his hands. Usually, it would creep him out that his dads would do that, but right then it felt so right to be with his family.

Other videos were small clips of Liam, slowly growing rounder with each video.

“Get that camera off of me!” Liam complained, looking positively huge. He was dressed in a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and a huge Guns ‘N Roses T-shirt, and he was standing in the kitchen of the flat.

“Aw, come on, Li,” Zayn’s voice cooed from where he was operating the camera. “You still look beautiful to me.”

Liam raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Even when I’m seven months pregnant and as big as a cow?”

“A handsome cow,” Zayn insisted with a laugh in his voice.

“Shut up, you!” Liam exclaimed with an incredulous laugh, throwing a muffin at the camera. The two boys laughed and Zayn turned the camera on himself. Though he looked tired, he had a massive grin on his face.

“Well, this has been episode ten in Zayn’s Video Diaries, everyone!” he told the camera cheerily.

Liam came up behind him and nestled his head in the crook of Zayn’s neck. “Thanks for the support, everyone!” he said, smiling beatifically. “We can’t wait to update you some more!”

The two lovers smiled and bade the camera goodbye.

But then it changed.

A blurry, shaking video in muted colors filled the screen, filling the theater with panicked screams. One voice stood out in particular.

It was an agonized scream, one of anguish and shock and raw terror. Zayn Malik dropped to his knees next to Liam, whose incredibly pregnant stomach heaved and bled. Zayn pressed his hands to Liam’s wound, screaming at somebody to do something.

And then Liam screamed too, agonized and writhing and gushing blood. He fell unconscious soon after, eyes rolling back as Zayn pressed Harry’s hands to the wound and stood up, staring at a figure beyond the camera.

And in that moment, with blood dripping from his fingers and face streaked with tears, he looked downright murderous.

He ran towards the camera.

The video cut off, leaving the room in temporary darkness. Andy breathed out slowly, realizing that that had been the shot that had nearly killed both him and Liam.

Zayn’s voice was hoarse. “That was the worst day of my life,” he whispered.

Liam sat in a hospital bed with oxygen tubes up his nose. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked impossibly frail. But he still smiled as Zayn appeared from off camera, holding a tiny bundle. Zayn looked tired as well, with dark circles under his eyes too, but a massive grin was plastered on his face as well as he placed the bundle in Liam’s waiting arms.

Zayn then pulled up a chair and sat by Liam’s head, tapping Liam gently on the arm to divert his focus to the camera. “Hello, everybody!” he waved to the camera, one arm around Liam. “So, as you know, we’ve had some difficulties. Liam was shot a little over two weeks ago and we had to rush him to emergency surgery. We had to deliver the baby a month early, but he’s been doing as well as a baby born on time.”

“Since I was unconscious up until a few hours ago, it was up to Zayn to name our son,” Liam explained. He grinned and looked over at Zayn for a moment, looking back at the camera with a slightly tearful face. “He didn’t know if I was going to wake up, so he named our son something that I’d told him I liked. He didn’t even take his own interests into account.”

“Everybody,” Zayn announced, “meet our son, Andrew James Malik-Payne. But” – he paused with a smile – “we call him Andy.”

The camera zoomed in and showed the little bundle, which Liam carefully raised a bit. The tiny sleeping face of an infant could be seen, and a small smooth layer of wispy black hair could already be seen.

Andy smiled quietly at the peaceful moment in the hospital twenty-two years earlier. He looked at each of his fathers. Liam still had a grin on his face, but tears were streaming down his cheeks. Zayn looked much the same, but maybe slightly more stoic.

A chubby baby waved his fists at the camera and babbled in front of a music note-shaped cake with a single candle on it. Also at the table that he sat at were Niall, Harry, Louis, and Liam. Zayn was manning the camera, and he and the other boys finished a very harmonic version of ‘Happy Birthday’ while baby Andy grinned and stuck his fist in his mouth, hair tufty and black and eyes far more like Liam’s than Zayn’s, cheerful and bright brown.

“Happy 1st Birthday, Andy!” Zayn cheered from behind the camera, and Liam leaned over to blow out the candle for his son.

Andy grinned and chuckled a bit at how ridiculous he’d been as a baby.

The entirety of One Direction, minus Andy, sat on a couch.

Liam held up a CD that the camera zoomed in on, showing the cover, which featured the five young men on a set of old stairs. “Our new album, Onward to Yesterday, is now available to preorder all over the world, including the USA! It features 14 tracks, including our singles ‘Racing With My Shadow’ and ‘Silver Lullaby’.

“Preorder!” Harry cried.

“Vas happenin’ preorder?” Zayn singsonged, and the boys laughed as the screen faded to black.

Andy knew all about the song ‘Silver Lullaby’. Zayn had played it for him on his tenth birthday, explaining how he’d written it in Liam’s hospital room after he’d gone to see baby Andy for the first time. It was all about seeing something beautiful for the first time, and it had been the only song on the album that just Zayn sang, with only Niall strumming along on the acoustic guitar for accompaniment. No synthetic pop noise, just Zayn and the guitar. It had won a Grammy.

Andy, this time as a toddler with a bright smile like Liam’s, fluffy, slightly curly black hair and olive skin, ran clumsily across a living room over to where Niall sat on the floor. “Boo!” he screeched in a high-pitched, childish voice. He was probably about five or six.

Niall screamed in mock terror and covered his eyes. “Please don’t hurt me!” he cried, laughing as a giggling Andy clambered into his lap and knocked him over. The camera shook and then steadied as it was set on a tripod, and then Liam and Zayn came into view, Liam holding a medium sized gift-wrapped box. There was a knock on the door that was right on the far wall of the living room. Zayn went over and opened it, and there were Harry and Louis, holding a big box with a bow on it. The box had holes in it, and Zayn cast a furtive glance at the camera before ushering the two new arrivals off-screen and into the kitchen. The three returned without the box, but Louis cried, “Hey, cowboy! Isn’t it customary to hug your favorite uncle when he comes to visit on your birthday?”

“Unca Lou! Unca Haz!” Andy shouted excitedly, rolling off of Niall’s chest to run over and into the two singers’ waiting arms.

“Andy!” Liam called from the couch. “It’s time for presents!”

Andy immediately ran over and made a flying leap into Liam’s lap. “You got me presents for my birthday, Daddy?” he asked excitedly.

“Of course, Baby Boy,” Liam said, affectionately ruffling Andy’s unruly black hair. Louis and Harry took seats next to Niall on the ground, and Zayn stretched out on the rest of the couch. “Niall, do you want to go first?”

The Irishman took the medium box from Liam and passed it to Andy. “I picked it out myself,” Niall said proudly.

Andy tore open the box to reveal a small black miniature guitar, with the letters A.J.M.P embossed in gold lettering on the side. “Aww, this is awesome, Unca Niall!” Andy screeched happily, hopping off the couch to give Niall a hug.

When they’d settled down, Zayn got off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Liam explained to Andy, “Now, this is from me and Daddy and your Uncles Harry and Louis. Understand?”

Andy nodded excitedly.

Zayn returned from the kitchen, lugging the big brown box with him. He set it down in front of Andy. “Now, you open that up and tell us what it is,” he dared his small son.

Andy carefully lifted the lid of the box and looked back at the camera and Liam with a gasp. Then he snapped back to look at Harry, Louis, and Zayn. He threw the lid off and a small, wet nose lifted up out of the box, sniffing excitedly. “A puppy!” Andy squealed.

Andy smiled wistfully. Simon had been their Golden Retriever that had been Andy’s companion through most of his life. The big old dog had passed away a few years prior at the ripe age of 14.

The next videos showed moments he mostly remembered: riding on a two-wheel bike around the quieter part of London with his parents, getting his first role in a film, his first car, graduation, and his first major film deal, which earned him an Academy Award in America. Along the way, there were short little snippets about Zayn and Liam, and how they had lived with being some of the most famous men in the world and raised their son at the same time.

It ended with Andy walking into Zayn and Liam’s home, his childhood flat, with his new husband-to-be, his former co-star Cody Aarons. Liam and Zayn’s open-mouthed reactions were priceless to watch, especially on the big screen. Andy chuckled happily and smiled when Liam and Zayn both leaned over and hugged him.

“We’re both just so proud of you, Andy,” Zayn murmured warmly.

Liam rubbed his back. “You’ve come so far and become your own person completely, and that’s all we’ve ever wanted for you. We love you, Andy.”

Andy hugged his fathers happily. “I love you guys too,” he muttered.

* * *

Liam Payne was still young.

He was only forty two years old, and he’d become a multi-millionaire due to his successful career as a member of One Direction. He’d married the love of his life, and was now watching his only son do the same.

He squeezed Zayn’s hand tightly as Andy and Cody shared their vows, letting Zayn hold him at the end of the ceremony, the way that he always had.

“I miss him already, Zee,” Liam murmured into Zayn’s neck, inhaling the scent of Zayn that hadn’t changed in all the years Liam had known him. Cinnamon and cologne.

“I know, Li,” Zayn whispered back, “but it had to happen eventually. He’s finally found someone who loves him.”

Liam sniffed and kissed Zayn on the lips firmly, still loving the familiar feel of Zayn’s slight stubble against his jaw. “I love you, Zayn Malik,” he murmured, twining their hands together.

Zayn’s fingers found the gold band on Liam’s left ring finger. “I love you too, Liam Payne,” he replied fiercely, still sending shivers down Liam’s spine. “I love you forever.”


End file.
